In the desert, in the summer, where the hippies burn the man,
Comes a silent devolution, to an ego’s stupid plan.
As the youngest and the “brightest,” billionaires in fancy cloths,
Come with private gold oasis,
Bring their shiny metal thrones.

In the desert, in the dry east, where they first did see the star,
Comes a deadly war of violence, children splattered in the hall.
As the youngest and the brightest, in their torn and tattered rags,
Feel the pain and pay the price tag,
For their nation’s secret slag.

In the desert all around us, where we gasp and choke and flail,
See another star has fallen, see the profiteer’s wild flail.
See the violence in the gray sky, see the violence in our eye,
See the world’s descent to chaos,
See the world around us die.

And I got to ask the question, are you high or are you low?
Oh? It doesn’t really matter, at the end of stupid show.
All that matters now my dear one, all that matters on last day,
All that matters is you wake, and say goodbye to foolish ways.

Michael Sharp

The Great Awakening

Getting you started on the
right path back home

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