MAD GENERATION

You say she's mad
For her blouse runs after her skirt
As she chase the air talking all alone,
No, to those we couldn't see,
Those in the spirit she can see.

When troubles of life, happiness
Takes you to the beer parlour
Where you drink to stupor
And fall on the floor,
Your son is shamed
In the gutter where you snore,
Yet you say you are not mad.

When your rent is due
And employers seek you to sue,
When life crumbled on you
And your spouse deserted you
You talk your thoughts out all alone,
Like her who chase the air alone.
Yet you say you are not mad.

When your private part is posed publicly
In the outfit which you wear,
You tip-toe like a mouse hunter
in your high shoes,
On your head is a dirt fit for debris,
You brush and slap it as you walk,
Turning all reflections to mirrors.
An act too insane for the mad,
Yet you say you are not mad.

When springs are in your ears
And you sing and dance all alone
Without drums for other ears.
With your trouser falling free,
On the route where wheels speed free.
All salutations you ignore
And dance spiritedly more.
Others make way to let you pass
Yet you say you are not mad.

When nudity makes you professional,
Body Inscriptions,perforations
Is graciously promotional.
The insane knows walking nude is insanity,
Body perforation, inscriptions is abnormal.
She is sane and you are mad
Yet you say you are not mad.

When governed by your anger
You rage and rage pointing finger,
Your eyes are red and spit fire.
You lost your sanity,
Your mind lost certain clarity.
We all know you are mad
But you think we are more mad.

You say she's mad,
But you are more mad.
Made mad by your insane sanity,
Your ideal ideologies,
Your flashy fake fashions.
Your lifestyle is nurtured by mad lucidity.
Yes, you are much more mad.
But you are not alone,
You are just one of them,
Who like her make up this mad generation.


As written by
Soul'e Rhymez ™
BBM 7EFF9E7E
© 2014