Interesting Times

 

We are living in interesting times,times 

When Women have refused to age 

And are participating in all kinds of sins 

And i look at them disgusted with rage 

In their 80s they are still using push up bras 

To support their bosoms which have been tired by age 

That skirt is too short grandma,leave it to your grand daughters 

That trouser is too tight and exposes your pink inners, the colour can't camouflage 

The boy you run after is old enough to be your son,stop acting like a young lass 

The wig is good but that too i don't know it passed your ' good things' gauge 

We are living in interesting times,times 

When men have refused to grow 

And i look at them and despise them with spite

In your late 70s grandpa,the dye on your head would make a tarmac road glow 

White hairs you try to conceal,don't you know it is a fight with fate?

The trousers you are sagging reveal your old tattered boxers, also hanging low 

Your 'stick on' teeth left everyone laughing when they fell after your son's fight

He too can't stand competing for women with his father,hence the reason for the blow

You hang out with boys in clubs who qualify to be grandsons,you just go with the flow 

That young lady you chase down the street, will ensure you lie several feet below 

We are living in interesting times,times 

When young men want to live 

Live like their old folks who worked for their wealth since they were young 

Expensive liquor they want to drink daily and cosy cars will hire to drive 

Women they change like clothes,old and young. Women that have killed many a king 

In the past they went to wars,now they sit and gossip with women;man must live 

In the past they used to hunt lions,now they fight for spaces in salons; women in making 

In the past they would start and keep family,now they destroy marriages;bad time being alive 

Few years after;drugs,depression,sick,he couldn't keep up with all the faking 

We are living in interesting times,times 

When Young women fear pregnancy like a plague 

They would rather have STIs and not a child, they call it girl math 

They will drink bitter liquors with eyes wide open,telling stories that are blague 

They walk quarterly dressed,leaving little to imagination,chest out,stomach,thighs,girth

Flashy life on the gram but sad life in reality, they tread on a lying path 

Old men with flashy cars and quick money they date,they don't fear even the analogue 

Few years after;addictions,single mom,bitter and longing for the last breath