Water for Roses

This the product of a new generation
Frightening advancements
And a new placation
Soothingly discreet
But nonetheless abrasive
Rudely encroaching
Bluntly invasive
The dry machines
Taxed to the maximum
But no one seems to care
How much they all ask of them
An unsustainable cycle
Built to collapse into ruin
The new is coming
No idea what they're doing

A nobody
From the boondocks of nowhere
With callused feet
And not a penny to spare
Finds himself lost
In the new century stampede
Arms open
His cuts
They bleed
Help
Help me
Help me please
The innocent cry
The naive plea
There is no help
It dried up long ago
No room for stragglers
Their worries and woes
Loose the dead weight
Cut the loose ends
Shape up or ship out
When the new century begins
All we have room for
Is the ten percent
Of the ten percent
But his pockets are empty
And barren of any cents
Angry stares
And upturned noses
Petals fall
From failing roses
Dead and browning
They do sit
The stragglers forced to make their exit
The last one leaves
As the last petal falls
But a simple glass of water could have brought back it all