I'm known for navel-gazing my way to elation,
and am living in a country caught within
the grips of frenzied matriculation.

My insidiously
malapert generation,
my incessantly
malcontent gene-nation.

This is a Garden of Eden,
Where is our guard of Eden?
carefully removing
all who are not heathen.

Plucking the clouded excess from an already crowded bed of hegemony, as a gardener would and so should.

It is a mirage, a far off oasis of Arcadia and
I say this all unconcernedly, a basis for this absurdity.

I have stolen my ego from god,
I will carry this yoke readily,
and I shall take up my axe doling out mechanically.