Morning poem or comment

The gift is the thing given.
That lets you out of prison.
The song is the pardon.
That covers all your wrongs.
We crash into another day.
Taking little thought as to which way.
We leave great wealth behind.
So much trouble caring for what's mine.
We see the beauty of a new morning.
We crash into another day.
Move this problem out of the way.
Another nickel another dime.
But you're running out of time.
Science will find a new day.
But a meteorite is coming this way.
Now the gift is far away.
Prison is every day.
The pardon song is what is wrong.
And nothing can cover my wrong.
I have no ground to stand on.
How do I see a need for a foundation?
Who cares about creation? Or any nation?
Virus be damned.
I have a right! I'm free!

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