I'm two balls deep, a middle aged creep,
A bengali sisyphean clown.
The rock of knowledge, I roll up the hill,
The fuck then rolls all the way down.
The slippery hill, no time to chill,
Everything is a changeling around me.
Everything artificial, everything intelligent,
Only my honesty and labor comes free.
The rich gets richer, where I am,
The wretched poor easily forgive.
I'm caught in a space-time panopticon,
In loops of consensus narrative.
People are fucks, rabid assholes,
They care only about their own selfish vomit.
Me-me, my-fucking-my generation,
Now with machines to proxy shit.
Rainbows in ruin, I am sanguine,
The shit has finally hit the proverbial fan.
I try to warn people, the toilet has been flushed,
The present making circles in the pan.
