Went on down to the station,
looking for a brand-new nation.
Looking more, less was found,
It seems all had melted in the pot,
Was no spice, no life, no grit,
Where was the verve, the drive, the gall,
Survival had settled into a rut,
All were living the proper prepper life,
Sucking along on the corporate tit.
Couch potatoing a fantasy world,
Just cruising along into stagnation,
Bowl of Gruel © Bamber
Once again I thought I'd write a nonsense poem. 11/5/15