This poem makes no cents.

We’re all a slave to the black

Keep running running running the track

You say you’re done but days later you’re back

Without it life seems all out of whack

Keep the cogs turning no room for slack

See the truth you’ll have a panic attack

In this dystopia the odds against us stack

But it’s all worth it to buy your new Mac

Go on the web check out that girl’s rack

Anything that can serve to distract

You’re a slave to the system and that’s a fact

What can we do to break the contract?

Open your eyes and see it’s all an act

Don’t be imprisoned by our chains of tact

If you speak your truth you get attacked

Do it anyway, by me you’ll be backed

To tell you the truth, I just wanna die

Every day I get up and live another lie

I’m chained to the game and I don’t know why

My life is a series of sigh after sigh after sigh

It’s comforting to know that the end is nigh

Save the world? Why even try?

Faith in man? No, not I.

All I wanna do is go home to the sky —

I just want to spread my wings and fly —

To the fools I want to say, bye bye —

They don’t know I’m bi,

And they don’t know I’m not fully a guy,

Even though I am anything but sly —

I wanna go out in a dress, no tie.

I want it all destroyed —

Where’s my generation’s Pink Floyd?

But man must hope.

What else has he to cope?

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