Climate Change (and us?)
The planet turns, the planet turns;
The adults fiddle while Rome burns.
And children yet to be conceived
Have every right to feel aggrieved.
And us? We tiptoe through the mines
And join the back of frantic lines
In shirtsleeved January sales,
Pursued by ever-warming gales.
Exhausts and power stations spout
Unheeded warnings all about.
But politicians must pretend
That nothing need change in the end.
And us? We like to say we care,
But still demand our swollen share
Of space and luxuries consumed.
If we go on like this, we’re doomed.
The strongmen plan to reach their goal
By felling trees and burning coal.
This fragile membrane’s tinderbox
Reverberates with ticking clocks.
And us? Our thirst for wealth and stuff
Will decimate this world enough
To make sure nothing will remain.
And there’s no time to start again.
As long as opportunist suits
Crush progress with size fifteen boots,
The sole repositories of truth
Are howls of idealistic youth.