The clouds of modesty hang their heads and weep
as they gaze upon the expensive, the opulent, the rich
It is clear that a humble society is dead
and a powerful, selfish one rises up to take its place

They weep for the work consumed, the media monsters
They weep at the sight of sports cars and technology galore
They ask, What has the world come to
that its inhabitants are always wanting more?

They wonder, Are we every truly at peace?
Does the cycle of avarice just continue?
The clouds would really like to know
when we will appreciate the old and stop desiring the new.