Children of Market Gods

Children of Market Gods Oh the sherbet of my youth To climb trees And run from bees To bathe in playful streams To dress up and be the prince of my dreams I was captain hook Marvelled at stories from my books Imagination my friend, my dog blue, A friend so true Everyday an adventure, the sun was mine And the snow, so special, so divine. Now I am old, and the world can count the cost The legacy of childhood which has been lost What happened to the children I see? Who have no time for childish things? But love a world where nothing is real Games of war and adverts galore No magic dragons, or slop dosh pies Just another mp3 and the must have zombie game to buy Enthralled by what the judges say on X-factor Emmerdale farm and holly oaks, such poor actors Britain’s Got talent, and Made in Chelsea Can someone help me? Imagination is dead Who will lead tomorrow? All I see is sorrow For books never read For dreams that are dead For children with a dull existence A bottle of wine and East Enders their future subsistence Brain cells left on the shelf Along with the artist, the poet and Santa’s little elf Lost is the childhood And we are to blame It is our shame We as parents, forgot they are children Call me a grumpy old sod But one day I will continue this conversation with God.