| Caught in the mundane. |
| The day to day, it traps us so
|
| Tightly. |
| Escape the cubicle cell enslaving time of the
|
| Resident slave. |
| Just another clone stamped in the
|
| System who cannot think for yourself.
|
| It’s raining pens and staples on the prisoner
|
| Questioning our real purpose. |
| Bury your sense of worth
|
| Beneath the desk you call your home.
|
| Consistent overflowing with no way out. |
| Now you’re
|
| Always entertaining thoughts meandering. |
| Ambition
|
| Slowly rolling, steady, downhill. |
| A puppet never
|
| Disobeying the strings attached from hands to toes.
|
| From head to fucking toes.
|
| And it’s the thrill of life that enables us to flow. |
| Locked
|
| In the spirit’s line, souls entwine, to journey on as one.
|
| I guess it’s the fear of all that keeps us on the road.
|
| Locked in the spirit’s line, souls entwine, to journey on as one.
|
| Behold our creation… A walking dead. |
| Step back and
|
| Realize what you are fed. |
| Escape the mortal mentality.
|
| It’s a lesson that can’t be ignored for long. |
| My
|
| Destination lies within the song.
|
| Blistering reality. |
| Imagining a world in limelight. |
| Never
|
| Will it be out of my reach. |
| I’ve heard the lies a million
|
| Times, but did it ever steal from my soul? |
| Bleeding from
|
| The lungs, I see, a life complete above the darkest hole.
|
| And it’s the thrill of life that enables us to flow. |
| Locked
|
| In the spirit’s line, souls entwine, to journey on as one.
|
| A world so masochistic. |
| Envious, broken system. |
| The
|
| Infant braving infested waters, collecting prominent
|
| Rage. |
| Torment in reality, for I leave it. |