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
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