Social asteroids

I have gone mad, I have gone mad
Said the fat man sitting on the high chair
Nothing polite about politics
Maybe police are just poor lice
With poor sight and the law is out of sight
Blame who?
Not you. But my self for sleeping still in an active dream
Material matters
In a material world,
So don’t look for
Love in a fashion world
You’ll get stitched in scars
Yap call me a pessimist
I thought I loved pessy
But damn I missed.
I woke up with bleeding
Hearts in box,
Here is my valentine.
The poets look at me
Like what the hell is he writing?
Look at the papers,
What the hell are they flighting?
We are waking up strangers to our news
Sniffing noses from constructed flues
In our own world, all of a sudden we have no clue
Bang, bang bang
Hit, hit, hit
Mad, mad, mad
Society hit by asteroids
Do I smell androids?
Electronic idiots
Ignorant to mutuality and feeling
But constructed to place order
He is the father, man is the son
It his universe, it’s his sun
That’s the order.