What has the world come to When a decent man smokes flat cigarettes And poetry is reduced to a General Surgeon's warning The cogitation of lost sperm had spurned lucidity And a humble man's promise is lost to us forever Ozone-scented thunder wakes us up to momentary grandeur But ceases its effects as soon as impact is met Then we are back again And not so much by apathy but by indifference Thus the sperm kept alive exists in vain And the memory of the promise fades As rain, pacified by toxicity, drowns out its music Music that the people had the audacity to replace With digestive bi-products recurring last farewells