We gripe, we moan, believing the end is near.
The worship begins anew as angst is praised
while money's delusional social status is raised
above the tear-filled masses, living in fear.
I've smashed my share of open windows and doors.
I've killed my quary of hopeful souls and minds,
to get my vengeance 'gainst those whom fortune finds
sitting on their pompous high floors.
Someday someone asks
the cause of my delusions
yesterday I knew
We have, we need, hoping the world will give
the love and comfort that we so desperately need.
I hate, you hate, we all complain and breed
still more the same for others to relive.
You've wanted and screamed for more and smashed your places,
killing your heaps of delusional minds and souls.
We try to stay in line and fill the holes
still left from squabbling 'tween peoples, nations, and races.
2+2=5 for sufficiently large values of 2