Dystopia The Moose
In this city there are no angels
Only tarnished icons
Worshipped with no uncertain hubris
In this nation there are no idols
Only fallen heroes
Relegated to history courses
In this age there is no gospel
Only televison
Narcotising our minds
In this century, doublespeak
Saves us thinking
We seldom can be bothered
Nowadays our only heroes
Are manufactured
And later recycled, or mulched
Contributors: | N, F, Ethetran. |
Poem finished: | 22nd September 2003. |