New Music

I heard the clathrate gun go off
I saw dead birds falling out of the sky
When my brave new world
Of pocket slot machines
Collapsed on its own lie
I guessed I'd finally send this letter
Couldn't help it but to preach
Lived in fear and loathing in Midwest cities
And I'm impossible to reach
But in the magic of my age
It's hard to imagine one outcome as best
They called yours Generation Z
So you're just scared to wonder
What comes next?
When all your smog gets lifted
When all gets said and done
It'll be just like Saint Rob always taught me
You're only a new band once
Blank stare at bubbles flowing
From All Clad pots
Like ice floes from the arctic
As I listen to new music
Desperate for that old catharsis
But there's always too much now
To think about for me
Or at least for my taste
And my sense of youthful opportunity
I watched it swimming down your drain