Tradition is calling it business. Feeling only real when employed, Dense from sucking on wallets. It's their pockets you're arresting. Money is made
Have you strayed from the movement? You're lost in a lie. Contradiction is my worst fear, I cannot see how you can block The truth from your fucking
Tear it from its cross, Shake it to pieces, Scream demon wind into its ears. I'm not getting an answer. How can you be so fucking real? Now I turn my
Down in the depths, I am your Hell
To forgive and forget, I live and regret. Grief speaks its own language; It forces me to act strong, But every time I stand up I'm afraid I'll bump my
And how will denial mitigate importance to successful health? These eyes call it pain, watching millions of people playing dead to a crook infested industry
Forbearing truth, we wear denial Your compassion will be put on trial. And when stripped of all innocence, Will your actions still commence? You won'
I think with my eyes cemented to a flickering screen. A thirty second segment, fragmented. Programmed behind the masks... And what do I absorb? A question
Feed. Kill the needing urge that hangs inside. Wilted life, a wound in need of nursing. Self induced hunger. Forced it down to suppress the gnaw. Cursed
Reality sets into a heart that wishes To read you lies that sit like an open book. This must stay open, this must stay clear, This must be said for all
