Got up, cleaned the flat and then wrote a song
Called 'End of the Golden Age' - that's a phrase
I've used before in a poem not long
Ago, but before the riots took place
The long-term crisis is hard to erase
From tha annals of probability
After all, population grows apace
Especially the poor, as together we
Exhaust resources like oil, kill the sea
No war or threat of war makes us less strong
Less united, selfish, where no-one stays
At home to teach their kids civility
Where jobs are long gone, the tormented young
Sold what they can't afford - for them, hard days
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