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Our Generation

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The sky is crying
For our generation.

Everyone complains
How today it’s raining.

Birds have been replaced
By mechanical machines
Revving, always going
By unnatural means.

Animals that once
Roamed these
Lands long ago
Are caged and exposed
In some sick sideshow.

And somewhere
A girl cries, “Uggh, my hair!”

As the sky weeps a
Silent, “Does anyone care?”



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