What Have We Done

Perhaps it’s best to turn my eyes from beauty
Forget the trees and gentle streams
Turn my back on spring
And shun the blooming flower

Perhaps it’s best to set my gaze
On glinting steel
And smoggy haze
Cherish gutters strewn with filth

Accept the future
Learn the truth
The forest path
The quite nooks
They’re from the past
Preserved in books

The future’s plain for all to see
Our fortune’s read
Synthetic bread

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