I walk the beaches of a skin-cancered country,
A land where a nihilistic refrain reigns,
Where the youth are iced and insolent,
Parents have pock-marked arms and collapsed veins.
I wander the streets of cities soiled by sleaze,
Paying high prices set by the casino’s hogs.
Rip-off merchants outnumber honest vendors
And old age pensioners have fewer rights than dogs.
I watch to see if our rulers respect our history
And observe only snouts seeking the richest trough.
It’s seems Orwell was right about trusting pigs;
We’ve not had a real leader since the days of Gough.
I would wish for death but I can’t afford it
And I don’t want to be a burden when I expire.
So I’ll find another country that will tolerate me;
I’ll go there to die and donate my sins to its fire.