Untitled – revolution

I feel like a prisoner
Chains are figments
Of my own creation
So deranged
Can’t maintain
This disconnection from truth
How is reality so skewed
So far removed
So lewd
The pain ensues
On a daily
so hard to look my babies
In the eyes
And justify all the lies
Just hold her as she cries
I wish I could tell her it will all be alright
But out in the streets they should call it murder
The way we her and him
As kids we rip there spirit
And beat their soul
Never satisfied always needing more
Insatiable thirst for things of little worth
Unearth the birth of the worst
This must be a curse
For what we did to our heroes
Turned to martyrs
From their message we couldn’t be farther
Harbor their resentment
Every time their mentioned
Almost condescension
To the legacy they invested
Disregarding all cost
Suffering the greatest loss
Or greatest conquest
The beautiful death
That’s why I feel like Kirk cobaine
When he went insane
Shotty to the brain
If this world is sane I rather not maintain

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