- Mother

Mother.
Suspicious of the ideas put into my head,
Weary of the sounds out of your foul mouth.
Keep yourself busy.
Reality can't find you if you keep moving.
Don't slow your pace.
Don't trip.
Too late to change your mind,
Which fills with a yellow glow that has me feeling old.
Lets start a war just to watch it from a hill.
And when our appetites for entertainment have been filled,
We'll go down and loot the bodies.
And then we'll let our wealth consume us when
Gambling nor food,
Prostitution nor porn,
Needles nor ash,
God nor church
Will let us be their friends.
Show me Mother.