Misanthropic Lament

My thoughts are often afflicted
by starts of misanthropy
when my mind does
dwell to the point
of weary atrophy
at a world so full of beauty
drowned in ignorance and waste
the simple pleasure of
society that some will never taste
we'll chase our riches and obsess
of britches, breasts
and youth's eternity
ignoring suffering, each other's needs,
intoxicated on "all about me"
at the end of the day,
much to our dismay
we reckon something's lost
like a forgotten tune that echoes
through the ruins
scarred and frigid beneath the frost

we realise we never gave a toss,
no we never gave a toss

never more alone now do we die
in our living's unfulfilled
as much is dead and densely lead
behind a thin gold leaf gild
so away I go with the pain I know
and drain it in a jar
I don't give a shite,
but then again, I might
when I sing and play guitar
for I wrote these words,
somewhat absurd
to give a hopeful shake
that you might live and
for your life give
a shock so you're awake
my thoughts are often afflicted
by starts of misanthropy
but by now you know, it's how my mind goes
when I dream of what could be