The adult life is lonely, its riddled with hate
Its chock-full of contest, and weary of fate
You lose that compassion, that wondrous trait
The child is simple, it marvels and awes
It wonders and ponders and disobeys laws
It can not fathom economy or monarchy
It is not confined by that monetary hierarchy
It does not see race, religion, or place
It pursues after joy, the most simple of chase
It cares not of opinion or physical appeal
It lives in the present, because it knows that it's real
Then the child is destroyed by mental oppression
It's told to step in line and follow direction
It's told to stop wondering and eliminate questions
Maybe thats the problem, we lose our affection
So the child grows up and it steps in line
It gets on that belt, elimination of time
Then sooner or later, the children are gone
They get jobs and cars and wives and a lawn
They work and they work and they work then they die
And that in itself is the elimination of time.

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