Flunked immortal

Banned on all levels

And sinking faster than something previously sunk

Pain becomes numb

Eyes blur to repercussions

Time is the mind’s reset button

Whip it out, blow, reinsert

Strange how aged Nintendo cartridges and skeet-screwing have the same SOP

The Japanese are cool like that

Americans? Nah, we collectively trip at the blue line

We only know how to take

We took religion from the planet, only to slap a Jesus sticker on its lunchbox, patting its ass a little too playfully on its way to school

When we f’ked that all off, the special education branch of Caucasian society ventured seaward

We landed somehow, immediately lied to the ruling race, killed as many as we could, and sent what remained to the shitiest bits of real estate

England followed in an attempt to kill us off – a chance to save the rest of the world from the lice-esque mouth-breathers who somehow put rabbit sex to shame, but it was too late

The white man’s version of a god had already murdered, plundered, and raped the lifeforms by proxy

From the look of things, I’d say we’ve bloomed into our final form as a country; the world’s cesspool

Somehow, the lunchbox resurfaced, was polished, tripled in value, and is dating a pop star

Still clinging to that faded Jesus sticker like it means something

A “free parking” pass to a theme park which filed for bankruptcy a decade ago

We’re useless

A parking lot

Not even a good one

Rocks

Just rocks

Agent Smith saw through the ocular stench

They don’t even bother offering the illusion

Unflinching in their master stroke

Just like the good book says

Exactly; wait

It’s as though they penned it themselves

The irony of the long-game