It just doesn't come as quick as it once did
Back when I was an invincible kid.
All the years compact in one soul,
I should let it all out and let it all roll.
Now I am too this half-way place
Sometimes I don't recognize my own face.
I'm growing by leaps, thought I'd be set in my ways
But life comes around and unfinishedness stays.
I am caught in between a gap unreal.
One from the civil rights days, other's XBOX appeal.
The torches of truth that once lead the way
Are silent and fractured and threatened these days.
The new gen seems careless, thoughtless and rude.
Their happiness hinges on material, placated moods.
So is it up to us, the spoiled brat generation
To stand up and fight to save our dear nation?
It seems we have a lot on our plates
We must hurry, no lessly, the hour is late.
