Why Can't We Be Like Dead People? (A Satire)

Why can't we be like dead people? The question nags at me- day to day, Stripping every ounce of my composure away, I ask, why can't we be like those deceased, They have lived simple lives and now slumber in peace, They worked and learned and played equally hard, Yet this generation's livelihood depends on a sim card, Say, why can't we be more like those not around, Instead of unwilling, sex-crazed, ignorant, lazy, technology-craving, lunkheads that are poverty bound, Who stare at textbooks- tense and bemused, Yet spend hundreds of dollars on the latest shoes, Oh, why can't we be like those in the days of old, Where everyday they showed respect, while we grow more bold, And why do other personalities hold so much sway, While the words of Tennyson, Byron, and Cummings are pushed away, Equally horrifying is the way morals are bashed, Implying your worth is an accumulation of cash, Pray, why can't we see our transgressions and leave them behind, Be of good nature, good humored, virtuous and overly kind, Why can't we have a presence of mind that's...profound, Letting our true selves shine through as adversity crumbles down, Tell me, what makes a good person good if they do not know it, Our actions may tell us, but our predecessors show it, Now be of good sense and pay keen attention to my words, Soak up every syllable of rhyme you have heard, I am not telling you to do as dead people have done, or to carry on as you do, I am saying that what you should strive for is the very best and most fulfilled version of you.