The hitchhikin days are over
And no one knows whats next
It’s the same ol’ atom bomb to fuck yourself with
But everything else has changed
Without danger
There is no poetry
But there is only the simulation of poetry
In the minds of angsty teens
What is the new blooming flower,
The stolen virginity of the future?
After all the deconstruction,
We are left with broken Lincoln logs
Do we rebuild with broken parts
By asking more questions
But what reality do we find
In the unanswerable?