Worthless Muttering
Location
The world is a hectic house;
Too many places to be, and people to see.
Its family gasps for air,
And dream of precious sleep.
My world is a hectic house.
The world is a den of thieves;
Fake brothers and sisters, all enslaved to greed.
Ignore the cries of the children who die,
Feed the bellies of those already full.
My world is a den of thieves.
The world is a vicious storm;
We all must fight against the wind.
Floods drown the ambassadors of peace,
Thunder deafens and lightning blinds.
My world is a vicious storm.
The world is terminal;
People are its cancer.
We worship destruction and decay,
Bask in everything we waste.
My world is terminal.