Delirium waits in the nurture-less womb,
In the place we've grown to disrespect.
Culture crash and torrid schemes
Wreck any chance of possible medians.
Is it an act praising the body and soul
And the beauty of life, et. al.,
Or is it a nighttime happenstance
To kill some time and feel alive?
A new generation breeds through recreation,
And the past lets out a tired sigh.
In the end, Delirium claims us all.
Delirium by Zilindico
