The Road goes ever on and on

Down from the door where it began.

Now far ahead the Road has gone,

And I must follow, if I can,

Pursuing it with eager feet,

Until it joins some larger way

Where many paths and errands meet,

And whither then? I cannot say.

All that is gold does not glitter,

Not all those who wander are lost;

The old that is strong does not wither,

Deep roots are not reached by the frost.

From the ashes a fire shall be woken,

A light from the shadows shall spring;

Renewed shall be blade that was broken,

The crownless again shall be king.

Adieu, farewell earth’s bliss!
This world uncertain is:
Fond are life’s lustful joys,
Death proves them all but toys.
None from his darts can fly;
I am sick, I must die—
        Lord, have mercy on us!

Rich men, trust not in wealth,
Gold cannot buy you health;
Physic himself must fade;
All things to end are made;
The plague full swift goes by;
I am sick, I must die—
        Lord, have mercy on us!

Beauty is but a flower
Which wrinkles will devour;
Brightness falls from the air;
Queens have died young and fair;
Dust hath closed Helen’s eye;
I am sick, I must die—
        Lord, have mercy on us!

Strength stoops unto the grave,
Worms feed on Hector brave;
Swords may not fight with fate;
Earth still holds ope her gate;
Come, come! the bells do cry;
I am sick, I must die—
        Lord, have mercy on us!

Wit with his wantonness
Tasteth death’s bitterness;
Hell’s executioner
Hath no ears for to hear
What vain art can reply;
I am sick, I must die—
        Lord, have mercy on us!

Haste therefore each degree
To welcome destiny;
Heaven is our heritage,
Earth but a player’s stage.
Mount we unto the sky;
I am sick, I must die—
        Lord, have mercy on us!

Screaming at the world
Will never tell them you have
A beautiful voice.

That thinks about how this entire generation is going to die so young?
We are all these artsy,
                                    creative,
                                                  smart kids
                                                                     with such huge dreams…
but we are all looking for our fix,
                                               our rebellion,
                                                                our taste of freedom.
"It’s just a phase" he tells me
          Alcohol stained breath drifting across the room mixing with my                                        
                                                                                  cigarette smoke.
But doesn’t he understand?
     These are addictions….
          We can’t just wake up as adults and no longer feel the need to prove           
          ourselves.
Alcohol.
            Drugs.
                       Steroids.
                                      ***.
                                              Cigarettes.
                                                                 Love….

We are all addicted to something that…
                                                            …takes the pain away.
                                                            …numbs our minds.
                                                            …makes us forget.
When our rebellion has killed us….
          When all our art and creativity have left us…..
                    When we’ve killed off all those pesky brain cells…..
 
What will be left of our lost generation?