I think our priorities are out of order
Shuffling, sick addicts chattering mad
Pushing boundaries and breaking borders
Every letter we type data to record
Corporations enslaving us all
Political establishment laughable at best

I hate to be yet another critic
But the optimists have fists
Shoved so far up their *****
The hand over their eyes is a mask
Blinding them to the cardboard cut outs
They watch so religiously

And don’t get me started on religion
Or how the Earth is literally on fire
Easily ignored, thanks to a finite life span

Such diatribes are easy
Sitting in a chair is easy
This is easy
We have it easy

Feeling uncomfortable is easy

But eventually
It’s gonna get hard
Really, really hard
Maybe for us
Maybe in a hundred years
(so relax, take another hit, no fuss)

As for me
I’ve always liked my pain before my play
So I'm dropping off the jungle gym
I have ankles to sprain