another work in progress
You fuckin’ Hippies’ll be the death of us All!
You hate oil, but you drive to the mall.
Open your mouth and it’s another complaint
You sort your bottles and now you think you’re a saint.
All your half truths, your recycled lies need to end,
Who died this time and made progress a sin.
Eat your granola, and sleep safe tonight
Cus the one’s you despise are willing to fight.