I don’t know what to write, or maybe I do
There is an abundance of words to get through
Perhaps I don’t know where to begin would be more accurate
Who is more foolish the fool or the profligate?
I’ve always wondered; is history a lesson or the lesson?
And are we capable of breaking the cycle?
So as each day ends and the end of existence draws closer
I realize that if there was no race, creed, or clan, we’d find things still to fight over
Perhaps there exists within us a propensity to hate
The line between disagreement and disgust is where it skates
All but proving that regardless of time and age we are victims of configuration
We, individually, may like to believe we can rise above our acculturation
Perhaps it is possible, but the pattern in time remains
The oppressors with the upper hand then the oppressed win again
The nature and the cause of the conflict consistently fails to matter
No order or empire lives two centuries before it is scattered
So for all our advancement and as our technology gets swifter
Perhaps we haven’t even touched on the real problem and we’re actually more alike than we differ
Maybe we’re just a version of the earliest men just with more toys in the cot
While the forebrain evolves the limbic system stays on the spot