Farewell, Fools!

If only I could divorce myself
From all the foolishness I have seen
These last twelve months, and more besides:
A sordid excess, a wealth of fuss
And furor--pointless and inane.
But I'm one cobble in a path
Of chipped and tippy paving stones;
The whole assembly should be scrapped
And recemented from below.
As things stand now, there'll likely be
Accidents and gruesome harm
Imposed on passing lively limbs--
Scrapes and fractures, maybe worse.
Such is the price of negligence,
But as for me, what can I do?
I'm stuck here in this matrixed track
With flaky flags for company
As sleet and bootsoles pound my face.