It does not seem so strange, this current age.
A Generation of Amazing Things
And yet it is impossible to own
The things that we have lost while we have grown

Just sit in thoughtful silence in a bar:
Those Meeting Houses, Dens of Ill Repute
And listen to the hum of conversation
And feel the emptiness in their vibration

It does not take a skilled interpreter
A master linguist or psychologist
To feel the paint that’s chipping from the wall;
the rot that has begun to claim us all

Look up, look out, connect, and know that pain
Will be the saving grace to keep us sane.