It's hard blending in
when you're an ancient soul
so hard living in
a petrochemical meltdown
everything is plastic
everything disposable
litter is our new currency
the sun shines down
on more and more blight every day
future harvests are exchanged
for new subdivisions
old infrastructure is abandoned
left in the wake of a mobile society
left in the wake of manifest destiny
newer is better
and older is, well, old
so I guess that leaves me
out in the cold
on the fringes
out of place
out of time
looking for survivors
the last of my kind.
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