Yours truly is starting the purge.
The Age of Aquarius has awoken everyone’s urge
To eat the rich and go back for seconds and thirds.
Gen X thinks it’s just new Gen Z slang that has emerged.

I’m sad watching adults make fun of Gen Alpha kids who don’t know how to read.
Little do they know Gen Z is throwing it back to textbook French Revolution history.
Boomers throw a workplace fit because we don’t dream of labor.
They’re so busy looking down at us, they never looked up to see their greatest elder.

It was Baldwin who caught the phrase, but Gen Z threw it to the internet league to take it major.
I’m tired of hearing adults bully Gen Alpha kids addicted to their tablets
Always talking about healing your inner child but forgetting the children of the present?

Oh, the places Gen Alpha will go.
They’ll heal the world—just let them steal the show.
They’ll make Gen Z look like the bar was so low.
They’re the apple of Gen Z’s eye;
I see how high Gen Alpha will fly.
Their listening ears are off for every one of society’s lies.

So young in a pandemic with Zoom classrooms,
So young and already been through so much trauma and gloom.
In Buddhism, they teach that in the garbage pile, the lotus blooms.

So, when you see their parents stressed, just know that they’re doing their best.
The world crumbled and left Millennials one hell of a mess.
Gen Z is quick to picket,
But we must fight for Millennials who were deceived by the golden ticket.

Just like the little blueberry girl, they made their way into the chocolate factory.
Anyone who was obedient was promised the sweetest candy.
But in 2008, when they checked their grandma’s bed to make sure she didn’t choke on what she chewed—
It’s a big bad Wall Street banker.
And Millennials were Little Red Riding Hood.

And as we heal, it becomes real that we take our foot off the necks
Of older generations who were never taught to feel.
Fireside chats instructed them to wrap their trauma
In a pretty package with a big bow to seal.

Us young ones see a president’s tweet before we run downstairs on Christmas morning
And open too many presents, all messy.
We get to yell and scream and work it out in therapy—
But age never stopped depression and anxiety.

Battered veteran grandpas leave grandmas for Heaven and ask the angels for wars no more.
They look down to see on Earth that she still gets so lost in her woes.
In her mind, she disappears into past memories
And gets so happy when the phone rings—because maybe someone will finally keep her company.

But those scamming thieves try to trick her into thinking it’s her favorite grandkiddie.
They call to say, “Grandma, I’m in jail, so get your wallet hastily.”
“Send all your life savings, quick and irreversibly.”

Her story is so common.
It’s all the rage. It’s all the trendy fashion.
Our elders wear worn-down vintage sadness
Just to see us on Facebook frolic in sunflower fields in our damn near free Shein dress.

What’s the point in all this therapy if we don’t share our wealth with those born earlier on?
It’s okay if their eyes squint.
It’s okay if they don’t get it.
Because something so pure was meant to be blindingly bright.

Just like Papa Pope said:
In the face of darkness, you drag everyone into the light.

Yours truly is starting the purge.
The Age of Aquarius has awoken everyone’s urge
To wear the white hat, to converge
For our inner monsters and angels to merge.

Because we’ll honor the dark and the light as we emerge.
This bright sermon today came from a nurse’s burnt-out revelations and I’m about to take y’all to church.