The devil drove a BMW,
He sung to the radio,
He would smile and talk with you
But his heart, stiff, felt none.
He’s soul was dead
Only tears he shed,
So I sold him mine,
Yet nothing, except two dead souls

His and mine.

For a second, we feel in control,
Setting a pace for fait,
Until we fail
Fait destroys the small hope we have,
Killing our sense of normality,
And so we begin to act irrationally,
And every-time fait wins,
Thou creating a circle of pain,
We’re we lose and fail over again,
Even if it kills us, or begins the circle again,
We still crave happiness,
Like it’s faits drug
Found from a simple hug.

Hello there, sitting down
Creating futures so unrealistic
So optimistic
Striving to be better than yourself
It’s almost narcissistic
So involved in your neighbours life
You begin to watch and inspect
It’s almost obsessive,
Jealous, so you sit and dissect
Eventually transforming into clones
From skin to bones
As you **** your soul without knowing
You begin to walk whilst dead
Until you read my writers passage
And you learn my writers message
And live again with the living

Hello there, on your knees
Coming to realisation
Of your souls contamination
Shedding tears of a man made creation
You begin to see a world not evolving around yourself
Asking yourself questions
Whilst falling to your hands
Finally realising the meaning of happiness
In that moment,
You change.