My Generation, That’s a Rap | Poetry | Hudson Valley | Chronogram Magazine

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My Generation, That’s a Rap



we all want to be gifted
want the spirit of each person who passes by to be lifted
there’s a monkey on your back guy
it’s all those lies built up, came back to surprise you
there are white-faced robots in black suits
fake wives, front lawns, and backyards
mediocre lives, they’ve got it backwards

the children don’t even realize how much they’ve got to lose
no imagination, no new creations
aimless fear from ear to ear
we’ve told you not to touch that
you were warned once before
run away wolf, before the pigs come
they’re going to blow down your door

imagine swimming through the floors
walking on water, and cooling off by the fire
if we got up when we were tired
everyone would fall in love with a liar

to the fathers whose daughters are uninspired
you’re the one who gave in when she asked for an iPhone
now she can’t leave that damn thing alone

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