The face of this generation has bags under its eyes and sulleness in them ,
It has stuffed painkillers in its cheeks, and has dug holes in the earth preparing for hibernation,
We are the icy-hots , the advils, the marijuana brownies at the parties where the kids get too drunk to
Remember
About how old they were when their fathers left,
Or the music from when their mothers wept,
We are numb,
We block the sun out with our hands covering the rays,
Burning our fingertips,
Slip,
We trip because of our crowded minds,
We are hoarders that like to pass the time on nothing to get rid of absolutely everything
We are numb,
Repetitive words make blurs
That temporarily soothe the soul,
So we chant in our lustful lullabies about how time flies when the sky is intoxicated;
And when the human body is sedated the mind is alive dripping with emotion and blood,
But what's love to the drowsy and what's sleep to the love deprived,
Our generation has bags under its eyes
