The answer is still fucking blowin’ in the wind

These social media just comfort what is not mine.
It’s only running and waving flags again, for nothing.
Yesteryear’s mirror deciphered in the same fucking way.
And sure, the fucking was a lot like we hoped for.

Oh, what a life it was when we had those expectations.
Through the years we may have found rock.
And we may have found some roll.
But the combination was always a hobbit away.

Then having a car was being a chauffeur.
And nobody wanted to be a chauffeur.
But we would make ourselves a tribe.
And later we would drink to it, again.

It turned out differently.
Our explanations of prosperity shifted…

This feeling rape we know merely by the definition we were taught.
And we never bothered to question that definition.
And so by not calling it rape we accept our rape.
Rape that has become more calculated.
Rape that is shown to us neatly in powerpoint.
We know now: it’s smoother when you join the countdown!

But – looking back – did we enjoy ourselves enough?
Did they enjoy themselves enough? Did I? I them, I us, I me?

Hahaha! Oh, excuse me, hahaha!