Haterage

This body, it seems, is still filled with rage.
My father said it would pass with age.
But I'm still in this income tax cage,
And the depth of feeling just won't assuage.
So I'll be dancing a whirlwind into a hurricane sunset.
I'll be singing a storm just to see where I get.
Wherever I go, I know I'll get wet,
Under clouds of the words that we always forget.

Holes have been burnt in my pocket.
I've rattled doors just to hope someone'll lock it.
I've stuck fingers in a live socket,
They weren't mine, so please don't mock it.
I've stood in a crowd of ten thousand faces.
I don't want to win any human races.
I don't have any airs and graces,
And I'd rather hang out with down-and-outs and wasters.

I want my kids to see the world's better day,
Where the hate-filled are blown away,
But not by guns in some brutal melee,
But by the grace of sunrise on a beautiful bay.
But hate is rage, or so I'm told.
This quandary that will unfold,
Leaves me brash, and holds me bold.
I'm stood in the shallows, muddy, and cold.

Stood in the shadows, chilled from exposure
To concepts that don't bring closure.
I wonder, do you, what the world owes yer?
But wonder and mankind just couldn't be cosier.
It's worked out now for millions of years.
Or about 5000, if God's in your fears.
Every now and then we'll always grind the gears,
Just to play the wargames with the betters and peers.
And I guess we never know it always ends in tears.
So open your ears.
See everyone hears.
This world is run by idiots that everyone fears.
It'll all end in tears.
It'll all end in tears,
Without fresh ideas.
Cheers.