• where are all the parades we've been promised?
    storybooks stitching lies into our subconscious
    subtle and sweet, we bathe in the innocence of imagination
    waiting for the world to change
    taking what we have seen in dreams and projecting it into our daily lives
    compare and contrast, where you are and where you want to be
    we all fall short

    the world isnt here to cater to our idealistic hopes
    it treats the hunters the same as the hunted
    an unbiased judge with the cruelest sentence
    living out this life imprisoned by our materialistic bodies
    we cling and attract like magnets, or maggots
    needing a hand to hold before we all fall for good
    but what does it all mean? every action I take triggers no reaction from reality
    we scratch and scream and suffer, but the sunrises and the sun sets

    because the sun has always risen, and the sun has always set
    and will continue to do so, long after we have departed
    us being there to see it means nothing, we make ourselves important
    make ourselves seem worth living for
    because there sure as hell isn't much else
    what is the purpose? where is the meaning?
    it is lying in the grave of every unnamed man woman and child buried in death
    no second chances in a slave driving reality that wont take no for an answer
    unfortuanate people caught up in it all

    I weep for memories long forgotten, for lives too soon forsaken
    coerced into walking the only path that presents itself
    leaning on trivial feelings and tending to the carcass i call home
    I will shed this feeble shell and fly amongst the heavens
    away from these cities, away from the incessant, unnecessary bullshit
    let it all rot! let it fall into decay, and let the vultures feast like kings
    I will leave it to the ignorant. satisfied with their role in this machine