What's Wrong?
Location
A thing to change is such a task
So bring a range to pulp the mass
Of things so twisted and bent to shape,
That Candyland may seem so straight.
This is the place, the time, the age.
So gone to dogs there is no cage.
And Held in palms, a rotten oyster.
I HAVE FOUND LIFE! And now, enjoy, sir.
Seclude to cloister, isolate
Instead of fix, asphyxiate.
Make due to gripe, and moan, belittle.
"Away at the base we will whittle!"
Such is logic through and through,
They pay no price, they're due some dues.
And say to you what has to me,
What has wrought this atrophy?
What is wrong? The lacksadaisy,
The crystal song attacks the crazy.
But the craze is sane and covoluted,
Twisted entries so refuted.
Berate the hate, yet feed its maw.
A tangled mass so rank and raw.
Do in your actions that you seek
To elimate, but true speak
Is not your nature,
Nomenclature.
Has gone from you,
Attoned to matres.
Bemoan it not,
Its time for action.
Take the rot
And burn it's bastion.
For if you talk but do no labor,
You hold us back, null legislature.