How far have we progressed?
Three millions days, Three million deaths
Questions abundant in my racing mind
What is our structure?
Nihilist nature of being
Suicidal generation of doubt
No one needs to kill us, we kill ourselves
Thoughts ramble like poetry without form
Poetry rambles like thought without purpose
Don't blame others because we are hopeless
Our hopeless goals are at least noble
Humankind on the threshold of humanity
Our progress is our resistance to death
Ours minds reach for the heavens
Our souls bound only by fear