Random Ass Poetry

The American Dream is Dead

I won't shut up,
Though there's nobody there to hear me screaming.
The prophet's song sprayed on a freight train is better than the rasp of the egotistical copper,
While the echoes of the past fucks up the space that's no longer feels mine,
And the blood fills the street in broad daylight,
I hear the world still spinning in an eternal repeating loop,
The way the soul is will never match the body,
And nobody cares to move,
To change this dying world we were handed,
And we are nostalgic for things we have never seen,
The so called glory days are actually that,
A daze that has been deemed for reality,
A match lit only lasts for a few seconds as do we,
We waste our rapid lives killing kids and beating women,
The American Dream is dead,
We got to bring it all back,
The lands and the streams,
The rich red clay and the buffalo herds,
The clear blue black sea,
Or we will have no culture to celebrate,
Only destruction and war,
The path we are taking is one that can't be sustained.
I won't shut up,
Though there's nobody there to hear me screaming.