The Buddha of the modern age Is barely paid minimum wage To dole out truth and healthy karma The same he gave to our forefathers When once we reached to touch the sky Now we have no need to try The blurred photos of ghosts of men Such permanence, we don't comprehend Slaughter the sacred cow to stuff our stupid mouths Already fit to burst through the insatiable thirst To kill over and over We interlopers the inferior species, wallow in our own feces Gazing down at our navels and no longer able To find some kind of perspective Of us, all the invective Glory in pathways of dopamine Until time intervenes Ramble struck down deeding Share all over goats stampeding But he has no need to try