Modern Problems

Modern Problems Look inside this feverdream we call Our Times: See how we try to call ourselves masters of our lives By binding ourselves in chains made of thougts Forgetting the powers we used to have When we were wild and naked beasts Part of a world dangerous, strong and unfettered, But free in its cycles of creation and dissolution, Balanced in a perfect dance That had no meaning apart from itself. See how the world bleeds now From a thousand different wounds Opening and closing daily. See the men who live in fear Of their own animal tastes, Who cage their spirits in cells of confusion See the women, Cool and distant on the hard city streets The dark fire they once carried Now burnt down and out, Empty, shapeless stones, hearts poisoned with suspicions That make them grow ever thinner... Thinner like the shadows of a picket fence That fade into uncertain infinities of twilight - So look at this world we've made my child See how it's been turned against its ancient ways, In places now a thing once perfect Made weak and warped through our excess Watch, see how we older ones Changed with our decisions things best left alone, Then persist in your sweet childish madness And bravely believe in the magic we have ceased to see, Walk in your dreams with your heads held high Proud to gather in the beauty that we've left forgotten, Draw it into yourselves and love it With your pure and simple souls Wed your childhoods to your spirits And hold it all deep within like sacred secrets, Hidden, but alive with the hope of a better day to come When you may fool the dry and empty ones And bring new life to this fools' desert, Our Times.