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If I keep wanting it back
I'll never move forward.

But once I've gone numb
its the monster I become.

You can call me a ******.
You can consider me the epitome.

I have my head in the clouds.
But it's you looking down on me.
You all think you hide it so well,
but beneath your facade is a story to tell.
You keep it buried, you keep it a secret
but those who look close enough will always be able to see it.
Your eyes don't shine like they once did,
it's like you've gone numb from the outside in.
Blank orbs staring off at the distance
constantly wondering if they too miss us.
It sounds ridiculous but only I feel productive when I'm doing nothing.
Sitting back, just relaxing.
Popping blue beans, burning bowls of green.
And just thinking.
Daydreaming about how things could have been.
How things could still be.
But how things will probably be.
Just close your eyes and let music be your guide.

Entire lives constructed and played out
in grand fashion. A world so detailed
I would rather get lost,
And never come back to this travesty of a society,
so raw and primal.
so human.
My world is so beautiful and yet so depressing
because it's what ours could be, but never will become.
Anything to distract me from this.
The 24 year old burnout grinding through school because there aren't many options left.
So where will I'll be in 5 years?
I wont.
While you're staring at rainbows, we're fighting off rain.
While we struggle to build walls up to keep ourselves sane.

So put em up
get those fists ready to go
because this world is a *****
and she doesn't take it slow.
Any chance she gets she'll hit you with that cheap shot.
Sometimes it seems like it never stops.
Eyes on the clock like I'm waiting for the end like
tick, tock,
tick, tock.

So put em up
get those fists ready to go.
Because we're stuck in this mess,
in this hell all alone.
The walls crash down when you think you've had enough.
But it's a marathon, not a race so keep that chin up.
meh
If only this parking garage
was just a bit taller.
And if the ground below
was just a bit harder.

Maybe then I could make an impact.
It's such a strange feeling.
I wake up and I feel I'm already dead.
I struggle through the monotony of each day
remembering what it felt like to be alive.

The world passes me by
but I take little notice.
There is nothing of interest happening here.
I catch glimpses of what I think is you,
it never is.

I feel like I'm already buried.
The weight of loss crushing me.
I can't wait to sleep again.

I close my eyes
because in my dreams I know I'm still alive.
And so are you.
Sing your praises on high
to long since deafened ears.

Build monuments to your sins
of all the bloodshed and tears.

From cultures wiped out
on your righteous crusades.

Just like the Druids
your religions will fade.

There are no gods to save you,
no one to hear your pleas.

So unclasp your hands,
get off your knees.

People need saving
yet we sit idly by.

Whispering to the clouds,
waiting to die.
You'll never see how mislead you were until you retrace your steps to see how you got there.
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