PROPERGANDER

  

I don’t use machinery

the modern pestilence
I attack with words
and they are truth
jaded propaganda

you were smoking
over there,

blowing smoke
in my direction
hedonistic pleasures

you were sitting there
dicing with eternity
suicide wish
and I was there

doing the same

people pressing buttons
what happened

to the good old days
pen to paper
going out of fashion

getting wasted
on this ludicrous day
cogs and tools and fools

it’s full of them
this insane world