In our day and age,

It’s hard to come across a soul,

That does not wish to climb the stage

And does not care for outer glow.

 

It’s all about the carnal act,

A wish to make the gold from coal.

The souls denying, when in fact,

Each craves to seize an epic role.

 

It gets infected,

By the mass, obsessing over rotten goal.

The mind rejected,

By the class. The loss of all control.

 

It finds itself in golden cage,

Under the lights of blasted stage.

Neck-deep in acid hole –

The empty, foolish, human soul.