Shit, son: Gen Y Fails, Safe.

Extended hands tear, stir a stagnant air,
Responses blare, ring ‘cross sore throats, protest 
To “Now claim, grasp the fleeting life we share!

No longer do we yield like grain so fair.
We’re blessed?—Lies!” Flames in heavy, beating breast,
Extended hands tear, stir a stagnant air

As our bright eyes with vehemence declare, 
In anguish for the target of your jest
To now claim, grasp the fleeting life we share.

But now is much too late to be aware: 
Gen X, in waving arms, departing, lest
Extended hands tear, stir a stagnant air

And reap their profits—nothing left to spare.
Death! to whomever thought that it was best 
To now claim, grasp the fleeting life we share.

For not without disdain do they compare
To privileged Gen Y—Yet we molest:
Extended hands tear, stir a stagnant air,
To now claim, grasp the fleeting life we share.