They want me to help them again to try to do what
Can't be done. "I'm sorry," I tell them. "I'm finished
With that.". The world's gone rancid. Wherever you
Look, the people are hateful. They're killing each
Other in too many places for me to count, and, where
There aren't wars, everyone is demanding that those
Who are fleeing them be kept out. The rich oppress
The lower classes, who, in turn, oppress themselves.
No one wants to help the needy. No one tolerates
The strange. So-called rights are widely ignored.
Elections are rigged. A god-damned dollar means
More than preventing the planet from burning,
The seas filled with trash. "Go say your piece.
I wish you well, but, as you keep finding out over
And over, there aren't enough of your kind
To allow you to do what you'd like to see done."