Going through a world of sad debris,
  Regard quixoitic reveries of ownership:
  The blossoming disease of man called tenure and accretion,
  The ancient western treadmill of deception and derision.
  But I want something more.
  Racing through a life of tragic wastage,
  I experience the loss of trust and innocence.
  The billowing cyclone of time has blown away our reasons
  As we trudge like blind men forward trying to avoid collision.
  But I want something...
  More.