"Happy Birthday dear..."

I start half way through the bent jingle which became more
Common by chanting all the words. That awkward sense
Of mutual buddies forgetting the name of the cocky boy
Blowing out the wax that burns through the mixture raw.
Faces envious of this attention seeker, while sat on a fence
Forcing that smile. The age he can be excused by his toy.

As one turns arrogant adolescent, the other takes childish
Place on the cute thrown. Not today, the world can wait,
But not for long as time shifts further down many graves.
The countdown begins when leaves grow onto the mildest
Weather that will warm the old cold hearts at such a rate.
Not all fret, soon more birthdays will join while kids crave.

The teen’s decision isn't fate or destiny, it's just how they
Live a life purely between lines of crack. To be so rotten
Is a crime in any mature life. Thank God they are care free.
How soon will they learn to care for the gift that they pray
And how it differs from the cracks that will be forgotten.
Shame for us not to embrace time. Each one pushed into

The ground swept away by the blink of old men's eyes.
Devastation rid across lands by generations over turned.
Look out your window; see the sky break, fall into hot ash,
Burning pretty skin which brought tragedy to all those fines.
In the bowls of hell the scent grew strong. Women yearned,
They felt so careful not casting felony by using other cash,

Knowing full well that it was their fault for this mad panic.
Think how the boy's maternal role must be copying with all
The accidents around her. Fingers pouring out all the blood
Of a false economy, channelling some wizards dying magic.
The virus spreading across all borders with no place to fall.
The conspiracies becoming ridiculous, dragged thru mud.

"Judgement Day draws nearer, who will blame the ******"