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Human Waste

By Wil C. Fry, Oct. 28, 2001, 21:57

Copyright © 2001 by Wil C. Fry. All rights reserved.


In the neverland of my dreams, I see what I wish could be
Happy children and smiling souls that are not lost
But I wake to find a gaping hole and a knife in my hand
The frustration, the loss, the hate
The pain, the loneliness, the darkness in our souls
What the f**k’s wrong with the human race?
Diversions are not enough to soothe us
Guns cannot protect us
Drugs cannot numb us
Selfish and ignorant, we stride on through
Ducking our heads and hiding our hearts
Just hoping we don’t get torn apart
Immune to the smell of death
Impartial in each breath
You don’t care
I don’t care
But where
Is the innocence we once knew?
I guess those times are gone now
We want them back, but we don’t know how
And we’re too tired to try
Just garbage that piles up and stinks
A wasteland filled with us.



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