I feel a budding urgency To fight back as I see the curmudgeon emerge in me Diminishing common courtesy and interpersonal skills Not quite an emergency yet But I can see it's not brain surgery To walk around feeling like the whole world's serpentine Chip on the shoulder might fit like a glove It's a piece of cake to hate, it takes work to love And therein lies the rub That internalized lifestyle of living in a rush Knee jerk jerks shirk the hard work and get worse At judging worth, now they claim that everything is dirt From some digital porch I can yell at a cloud, raise a torch and pitchfork Poor sport with a keyboard, connection, and boredom Who moves so fast he blows past the post mortem I can feel myself slipping Under the undertow of rank individualism Swimming in cynicism I can still see the shore. Giving in is not a given