Gerascophobia (Burning the Masses)

Grrrr... For generations we mourn a richness in life, A day by day different scene, analysis of... Information! Mental memories project visons to feed on, Our wisdon enhances only to question And acknowledge your fears! You frolic and play when you're young, Rot in your stench as you grow old Facing your own mortality fills you with An obsinate dread you can't rid of The onset of disease, Your air comes with a receipt. Worrried you will die alone, you expect the crucifix Around your neck to save your soul! A hint of growing old, And losing beauty, Fear of impaired mobility, Your face deteriates, As your insides decompose, Your brain lacks oxygen, A soft whistle spews out As you choke internally. You frolic and play when you're young Rot In your stench as you grow old Facing your own mortality fills you with An obsinate dread you can't rid of The onset of disease, Your air comes with a receipt.