Life

Come one, come all, come see the show
Shout angels in sadistic joy
Observe the seed which doth here grow
Wayward masses fall for this ploy

As hope and despair intertwine
Human beans stare vacuously
For it, for that, for just a sign
Lost acolytes look desperately

But what they find is quite threadbare
History’s ancient tapestry
What they claim to seek is rather…
Unfair. Fruit from that lowly tree

Society’s pretentious shiv
Dripping cries of Arbeit Macht Frei
So kill yourself that you may live
Or without question you must die