Primitive Playground

Tuck me under the blundering sun When I was the younger wondering one, I could make liquid diamonds from dew I could be fairly invisible too, Spying on bugs while hiding from you Back when the color green was still blue, And every day was worth walking through My view was not yet quite askew, For every promise was tried and true And every star, though old, brand new. But alas! Only ideals were free With insidious reasoning provided for me, And drowning from sea to wretched sea In the home of the slave built with debris, Genetically designed to disagree For I am aware! To a great degree. Thus I’ve become old, soul jaded and cold I played this hand till I was forced to fold, And though I remain so uncontrolled There’s nothing left but death to behold.