mandag 24. mars 2014

slow snow falling


we're in the age of the great abyss
where plenty isn't enough

what you crave is what you get
the instant formula of the present

take one step back and you'll refuse to compute
the means are clear
what we seek is here

to evolve is to keep nothing sacred

i'm getting older
but my habits remain foggy
i'm not afraid to feel
but i still feel i should be

my life is a lie
so is yours

no chapter will ever end
what you begin is what you become

belief is a perspective
shed light upon the situation at hand
we're nothing, to be real

stuffed stuff
a sense of purpose
habitual vegetation
hands for no reason

the smell of tobacco
we yearn to be hooked
the fabricated escape
to an illusion we trust

home home home
what is it really
except for an accepted language
of the common

what feels real must be
greatness is the ultimate

posses a quantity of qualities
be a shoe-in for everything

everybody's gotta fit in
manipulated jigsaw life

free will
and the means thereof
doesn't exist
so welcome home
to the village of whatever



Ingen kommentarer: