Used to be the co-op, hired every hand in sight,
Now combines roll themselves, workin' day and night.
Folks ain't earned much but the sting of hard-won truth,
And Friday nights at the bar, lost the fire of youth.
From the bottle's sorrow, a soul's mournful plea,
To a rumble and a bang, for all the world to see.
The old songs whispered, 'bout the demons in your head,
Now it's just "vroom" and "boom," and the old ways are dead.
Seeks clarity through mental grays,
It sheds the dregs, in clever maze,
A purer thought, through life's short days,
With essence found, it gently lays,
Upon the truth that always stays.
But feelings flare, a shadow's lure.
What eye perceives, the heart then skews,
And coldly molds, or boldly hues.
A whisper's weight, a worried mind,
Makes light seem late, a truth behind.
So gloom descends where joy could beam,
Opinion's bloom is a waking dream.
