Gallivanting through fields of gold,
Past timber crisped posts woven with
Hopes and dreams, shredded by shrewd
Knifelike edges of nettled borders,

Cutting them off from the rest of the world,
As they try with passion and burning desire to
Plan their way to freedom. Through brilliant
Minds and timeworn years they try, try and try,

Never coming close to touching the face of
Reality. Denying the inconceivable notion
That there fathers and fathers before them
Have spent four scour and twenty years

Tenfold fighting for what is right and just,
Still never getting anywhere. Coming to
Realize that their progress has been Nonexistent they stop, conforming to the rest of society.