HOW'S THAT 2022 A.D. GOING, DREAM IN A DREAM, AIN'T IT A SHAME?
In a little while, everyone alive'll be dead of old age or by random accident of Space dust
Compared to the alternative, a life of a human is far better than fake life of upper crust
Black or red dirt you'll be buried underneath while Man's hired top guns seize your assets
Timber falls either naturally with gravitational pull down or due to an axe or chainsaw sets.
Homer and Marge live and die for the animation, if they don't move it they'll lose it, it's true
No miracle can bring back the dead, no gods have the power to resurrect the sins of the crew
China or Russia, England, France, Germany, Spain, United States & Canada, all in on WW #3
I was not in on the polling or I would have had given my opine, that WW 3 is the End story.
Maybe I'll be proved wrong but that would be only if we all survive to recollect fake wisdom
That Time passes quickly, Earth revolves around old Sol, 365 1/4 days every year, psyche 'em
It's all we can do, just survive and be the most fit in the neighborhood you roam in hip skins
Watch your SIX and keep in mind that nobody gets out of here alive, all mortals are cousins.
Desire for the need to bleed when you're the hero of the minons who keep eyes wide open
So, move to hide in plain sight, disguised as though the bums and junkies have spawned sin
There I am with all there is, I look like I really am, tie your tongue in Tongues, all too human
Little head with a small brain & invisible, conscious mind with a moral compass, a 1st cousin.
Advance the columns, to war I say, like the Greco-Roman insanity of the historical record
All roads lead to Rome as it was intended by the engineers who laid down a holier 3rd war
Inside the battle with spears, knives, swords & stupid shields for a false hope's back door
Fight to die for, we tried it from surprise, behind my back, ahead of some ginger-red horde.
Now and then, it's all finished at the last breath but some people have a soul that remains
What it does without a body of work, a body of bones, nobody knows, it's speculative sins
Like the master who created the thing we are from nothing but empty space and gas, OMG
Maybe there is a god then? Hell, maybe we'll be rewarded or punished so fight, flight, flee.
by
r j j stephan, i
c. Lundi, March XIVth, MMXXII Anno Domini @ 333 PMPST
{ Confabulated with prejudice while jammin' to @Glenn_Frey #SoloCollection link @ https://youtu.be/-HQcpmVefcw }
F I N I S
W.W.A.R.D.?
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