There is a thing called growth you know,
Enjoying the rewards from what we sew,
But there are some, who sit and stare,
Through long misery making despair,
These are the cavemen, who do not adapt,
Neurotic statues that have always sat,
Thinking themselves Emperors all the time,
Mocking the kind hearted is their crime,
Not moving on is to blame,
But they decide to carry this flame,
But we the considerate are all so tired,
Of surreptitious orders others have sired,
Like a pig they play in their muck,
With all our patience that they have took,
It is time for them to wake up now,
For them to share this sweat on our brow,
Anchored conclusion of theirs is wrong,
We try to talk, but they sing their song,
“I have done my work already boys!”
We retort: “Your still live, you’re still deployed!”
They use denial of things gone by,
Of marriages that have gone awry,
Yet they are not divorced from life,
So let Change itself become new wife,
For dutiful hands are now bleeding,
So get up and help us with this weeding,
To create distractions and better climes,
So we can live in harmonious times,
For we are dying here, so help, I implore,
Do not stay a human dinosaur.