Born of this generation, born in a race.
Wildly educated, yet waiting for praise.
Scavenging for leftovers, from past generation’s waste.
Building our own mischiefs, with the scraps of morrow days.

A new dawn approaches, as the domesticated sleep.
The enlightened rats scurry while looking at the sheep.
A new world order encroaches, as the old world keeps.
Our ears perk up as we hear the tunnellers dig.

Like the rat in the zodiac, we know that we’re early.
The race is almost over, for the enlightened rats surely.

The wheel keeps spinning,
And our throats, they still run dry.
But now we’re enlightened,
And now we’re grinning.