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talentless but common folk
manage this or bond to blokes
never alone but forever lonely
never time to harvest money
constantly barren, left to rot
nothing's fair in earth's nonthreatening plot
and even as we echo into silence
we don't feed the need to suck up, repent
for all that we are, all that we represent
is a mixing pot of values, all still on sent
never delivered to the source of woe
never received by friend or foe
so listen now, or please listen here
the times grow harder but no time for fear
cause mixing and mingling seems fun, on read
but for plans we waste time until, we stay on dread
and even as we embrace this violent cacophony
we let our spirits soar into promised charcuterie
so we finally let go, when we finally breathe
we gasp: oh shit! i'm hungry - it's time to feed.