YOUTH

YOUTH

Their land is empty
Their land is dry
Their faces searching
Their eyes are dead
They have no vision
They’re without hope and dreams
Instead of toiling, they eagerly embrace
The booze, the drugs, the sex, the next high
And that’s what they live for
That’s who they are

The Good Book says, My People Perish without vision
Don’t they see?
Can’t they hear?
Death calling out them?
Inviting them
Inviting them to partake in its next meal
The booze, the drugs, the sex, the next high
Don’t they see?

Their pleasure is for a season only and will end soon, and
Death will sit down and enjoy its next meal