You're such a pretty young thing
bored and apathetic
what do you care if the world
falls down around you
have you retreated
so far from the surface
that you've forgotten
the feel of the sun
on your skin?
Are you here or not
buried in your ipod
wishing this all would
come to an end?
and what if it did
would a twinge of regret
pass the hairs of you're neck
as old systems die
and a new world begins?
crawl back into
that familiar embrace
the comfort of conformity

such a poor complacent
meek little sheep
looking for a master
waiting for the shepherd
to lead you to the slaughter
on the alter as you die
will you smile satisfied
knowing how he loves
his shepherds pie?

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