my people

When nostalgia sneaks up and threatens to choke you

You reach out and grab a fistful of the virtual
And curse every God in every reality

For writing different destinies

Then, they come in bits and bytes

Talking, sharing, saying silly things

And you thank every God in every reality

For writing them in your destiny.

Simon, go back, really

If all you want to do
every day
every minute
is to crib and moan
about a country
and its people
while not moving a finger
to do anything about
the sorry mess
I guess it would be wonderful
all around
if you got your sorry ass
out of the said country
no?