It's more than painted over graffiti,
The trouble with our world today.
The problem's mass is sweeping
More like a paint brush,
Used to wash wanton layers,
Time worn colours, away.
Strategic historical scholars, studied to rote,
Besmirch budding Buddhists babies,
Learning to vote by thinking.
What a novel concept!
If people would just pay attention,
The entire world could get smart.
The youth keep shouting louder,
Falling fast, far, and as hard,
As earlier generations did.
They are THE hope of our nation.
Shouting in codes their passions,
Spouting a shiznit with voices hid.
There's something wrong in this country.
It's been simmering in a brew quite a while.
The hippies got old and face graying,
While the youth now do their own thing
With a new fashioned font style.
No lessons learned,
Old leaves not even turned
To compost for human renewal.
Few values passed along the trail
Because values, then,
Weren't the popular thing,
To be in, with it, man.
Can you dig it?
There are 50-odd million Americans
Staying, saying, and swaying,
"We won't let you whitewash us away,
Like grains of sand in a rip tidal bay."
So I'll face every day on my own terms.
The representatives stand for me, too.
One must be true to his conscience
As the rest pigeonhole patriotically
Into immigrant shades of red, white, and blue.