In the future, fifteen years from now,
This won't matter,
My name carved into that desk will just be a carving,
And the pot-bellied children will still be starving.

We are addled with logic and equations,
But the world and her people remain sick,
And her temperature is rising.

We are taught how to live, how to talk, when to breathe!
But we're we taught how to love, how to speak, how to believe?
We were taught how to cook, how to clean, how to sew,
But he was brought up with an arrow and a bow.

What is this culture we've been made to believe?
Is my name carved into that desk vandalism? Oh please!
You're worried about your desk?
But you are part of the reason the worlds such a mess!

We were taught about the dangers of pollution,
And we had all these ideas and wonderful illusions,
About saving the world and saving our lives,
And stopping the constant worries and cries.

But I was taught to love and I was taught to cry,
I was taught so express my emotions and speak,
Because if I don't, we will all surely die.