Fatum

I’ll tell you doctor
What is wrong with me
This market life
Has worn me down

Attracted by the simulations
Of feeling
The Christians
Have created
This hell

When I’ve just about
Had enough
Absolute zero
Isn’t cold enough

I’ll let the tragedy
Unfold
As I foretold

We gather round
Like shadows
Bursting
From the TV set

Eliminating all reason
Until we can’t survive

We’ve bred ourselves

To death

© 2006, Mosquitobyte