When did we grow so bloody insecure?
So mindless, lame, in love with the frivolous.
When was thinking put aside?
When did shallowness take precedence;
Life become a game of dressing up,
A state of being permanently immature ?
The superficial, the ridiculous,
Artifice, the stage set, the pretence,
When did we decide
They should be viewed with reverence?
When did we exchange understanding,
For summing up, listening to gossip,
Accounting anecdotal evidence?
When did we start to believe
That a life, not just art,
Could be reduced to its essence
Based on its trivial outward appearance?