Yeah, you're right we're too lazy,
This generation of ours.
We don't want to work,
The ridiculously long hours.
No it's not out if sloth,
Gluttony, or any real life sin,
It's the lack of real reward,
Even with dedication given.
We don't mind trying and smiling along,
Even if the path is low, slow, dirty, and long.
But with preservation and dedication… Reward?
No just grudgingly trudging,
With a deep laborious song.
We don't mind the mud and experiences for gain.
But, after a long time of dredging in the rain,
We'd hope that some slight hint of gold, would shine out,
Just a twinkle, a sprinkle,
A sight within ear shout.
But the only twinkle found,
In this low and dirty ground,
Is a sight of illusion,
Allusion of what infusion,
Has corrupted our grasp,
Of what grows around us,
In the wild unhindered grass.
There was no gain to be had,
But be glad,
The only gift found on that path,
Is a goal just for fools,
Making tools of us all.
And you wonder why were lazy,
Us here,
And us all.