We are the product of a failed generation,
Residue of our parents latchkey degradation.
They wonder why the youth are quick to die,
But can't look the truth directly in the eye.

They deny the fact, saying we turned out alright.
Downing another Xanax to avoid the urge to fight.
Complaining that drug use is destroying the kids.
Ignoring the irony with the bliss under their lids.

We're out of control, they're out of excuses.
Not willing to conform to what the propaganda produces.
An image we've produced, of danger and fear.
Not knowing what impending generation draws near.

But not lost on us, is the ability to care.
Believing everyone should have to play fair.
Finding common ground is what our age does best.
And that trait shall remain when our past dies with the rest.