Parasites of peace
Thrive on conflict, past turmoil
Modern banal spoils

Always moving
Nothing is fixed
Everything is a risk
Is this why nothing feels like home?
Roaming or trapped in domes
Feeling alienated, call it a syndrome
Caring about chrome more than the biome
Hollow, made of styrofoam
Never improving
Always moving

Poisoning the well
Questions are flung, words that stung
As our flask withdraws

Glimmer and glamour
Grey buildings with vacant eyes
Advertised to buy

Mimes, clowns in disguise
Reality, no surprise
Dictated by deceit

Corruption is a perspective
Held by the collective
Their effort to remain remains protective
Their intentions stay clear, reflective
Guided in life by a retrospective
After all, it is cost-effective

Poor? Too lazy.
Rich? Too selfish.
Stable? Too adverse.
We cannot come together
Kumbaya?
Not with humanity's perpetual
Coup d'état