The tectonics shift
Sand slips helpless through an hourglass
Change is imminent, cataclysmic and crass
It calls on the wind as our nails puncture the grass
As we cling even tighter to loose archaic structure
Scraping the sky in its surrendering crumble
While we claw and tumble to the deepest depression
What do you really fear? Collective transgression?
While human insanity erupts into a sweating red fever
Our home is a wasteland - it can't help you either.
But the threat of hope looms,
Challenging a guilty psyche
There’s a crack in the nut
There’s a chink in the armour
There’s a macabre churning
There’s a debt collector, called Karma.