Looking out to see what’s left
It isn’t hard to be bereft
The stuff we hoped would stick around
Is buried deep within the ground
While garbage that we’d scorn and jeer
Grows more successful every year:
Flailing wildly for attention
Making things too crass to mention
Pumping out the same old crap
In hopes it puts them on the map
Watching all the ill they do
You figure, better them than you
It’s hard to even fake the passion
Just to mimic what’s in fashion
Don’t they burn with shame to say
“Yes, this is how I spend my day?”
Integrity might not succeed
But doesn’t feel as gross as greed
No good thing lasts and that’s okay
You’re probably better off that way
