A life brought in this ratrace
Fruit of a vase rife with thrace,
Destitute thought and grace
A soul lovingly embraced
But a hole full of distaste
What is it that cannot be effaced?
A blazing riot in this carcase
Never ready, never braced
An ever empty vase
A growing clot pounding a deep bass
This world a fucking disgrace
Only a shitty marketplace
A matter of birthplace, color and race
Someone give it some streptokinase
Or a gun to save some face
A body bludgeoned by a mace
Again and again, a faster pace
This interface of too many a poker face
A must for the lust to get to third base
Social, cyber, all a waste of space
Let the heart under, so it finds solace
Social, cyber, all a waste of space
Let the heart under, so it finds solace