Though it be'st the twenty first of centuries,
Yet may still exists these beings burdened by worries,
Of capturing moments onto a single page,
To share to the mass of moments enrage,
Blame'st the notion of capturing hands,
Thats yields false livings of those living a'land.
For a moments time do these beings live not,
But think'st about the footage that may be caught.
Draw'st the lively heavens that present thyself to thee,
May thou'st most swiftly to thy camera's hand a'flee.
Live not the beauty of the mighty river and its current a'flow,
But captures the facade of being and living as a falsely whole.

Shall thy'st live not by the beating heart of thee birthly gift,
But live'st life by the value of those admirably swift,
And live'st the facade of both false moment and dear,
For false truths accompanies false happiness here.
Then surrounds thyself with greatsome fierce crows,
That caws to the desires and facades like wholesome hoes.
So shall tis century be defined by two simple notes,
Of those who live not and those unknownly false denotes,
Of beings that cling to the facade of endearment of falsely vows,
And seeks for the acknowledgements of the surrounding crows.