Fishing For Turds

Pondering reasons upon parable hill
Impromptu retention of a capitalist thrill  
No excuses to fool you, swearing blind to the moon  
as they digitally deluded you, with hyper cybernetic Asian bird flue  
screaming “the end will come soon “
The hypnotic psychotic enslave and control  
break you, rebuild you to be robotic in soul  
 
Come tell me the future  
Come tell me my fate  
Oh gypsy lady with fingers of gold  
and young eyes on a face growing old  
with a look that knows it only to late  
 
Chants of redemption from the  narcissistic passive aggressive brigade  
In destitute’s clearing  
as they plan to invade  
Salvation they offer  
as if it’s theirs to hand out  
preaching spit on thy neighbour  
whilst circulating pamphlets of hysterical doubt  
Responsibility lies with only ones self  
accept all the blame  
and be rewarded with wealth  
Dancing on strings spun from apathy’s shame  
 
Now you’re one of them  
oh how good it must feel  
Rise to the top  
to be rolled in the mud  
with no say or control  
just a spoke in the wheel  
 
Hello you frauds donning that salacious sycophants smile  
comfortably duped conforming to a pre arranged debutant style  
Fuck me you speak  
in borrowed out of date words  
spend your days chasing rainbows  
and fishing for turds