I love the outdoors,
Though I’m not here for;
Your…shit.
I watch the birds soar!
Bugs on the ground floor;
Then…shit.
I watch the sun roar!
Split water with oar;
More…shit.

I’m in this great place,
But beneath the face;
It’s muck.
So much at this pace,
In this finite space;
We’re stuck.
To say with less grace,
We’ve lost the arms race;
We’re fucked.