Shroom. Doom. Gloom. Fumes.
Feud is in the air again.
Soil. Boil. Toil. Destroy.
Joy has gone along, my friend.

Believe. Deceive. Receive. Don't Give.
Grieve death as we inflict the pain.
Deal. Steal. ****. Don't Feel.
Reel on and on as we explain.

Tear. Dare. Glare. And stare.
Fear's a weapon we must wield.
Fields. Filled. With bodies. Killed.
Yield ye all or else be slain.

Rain. Drain. Feign. And Gain.
Replace the tyrant's iron reign.
Divide. Inside. Connive. Acquire.
Arm nations but keep them tame.

Blame. Frame. Maintain. Good fame.
The aim, control the merry game.
Surround. Around. Then round. Them 'bout.
Out with the old, make new insane.

Maim. Claim. Campaign. Proclaim.
Same banana, different peel.
Rule. Rules. And drool. You fools.
LOOK AROUND. Are these words real?

Listen in silence.
Close your eyes,
Hold your breath.
Feel that? You just simulated death.

Dead people breathing,
Dead people seeing,
Dead people speaking,
Spooking out the living.

Some died on time,
All buried late.
Their goodness ****** by death,
All that's left is hate.

Their bodies cloud the sky,
Raining blood on us.
Dragging you and I,
Demanding to bury us.

They call us useless but they're rotten,
Their corpses spreading spores.
By devouring us they fatten,
Keep us begging by their doors.

They sleep with eyes open,
They don't dream, they never doze.
They smash what's already broken,
All wide doors they shut close.

They want something back,
Something they lost long ago,
The life they've always lacked,
They destroy as they go.

And so they call out from the well,
Describe Heaven like it's Hell,
Lure people in with what they tell,
Then ask them why they fell.

Dead people out there,
All proclaiming peace.
Living people don't realize,
It's only just a tease.

They see us, they shake us,
Like leaves in the breeze,
Because to them, we are nothing.
Just mere food for their trees.

Dead people howl out,
Leading all the living.
Living people listen to the dead,
And now they're dying.

Dying people thirst for air,
Yet they're drowning in it.
In this society no one's living,
Just dead or barely surviving.

The height of the cliff,
It draws me near.
It seeks out my rifts,
Takes away my fears.

The silent crashing sea,
It calls to me.
It brings a certain peace,
A calming finality.

The whispers of the breeze,
It soothes away crystal tears.
Gentle whispers of lullaby,
Echoing through the years.

The solid rocks below,
They tell me "come",
Their strength and rigidity,
Enough to lure the numb.

And so I stand at the edge,
Take the scenery above,
Before I succumb,
To the pull of below.

The blow. The flow.
My arms are wings thrown,
Yet the only way to go,
Is down, where peace and silence grows.

To die is to be free,
As to be free is to set sail.
Set sail on no man's trail,
And becoming but a tale.

Peace leads to chaos,
As tyranny contructs order.
Harmony can be forced,
As long as the music moves further.

To dream is to hallucinate,
As to hallucinate is to run.
Running across the hazy field,
Chasing the setting sun.

To sleep is to die,
As to die is to rest.
Rest from the tiring task of living,
Laying laxed in respite.

Frustration.
Stagnation.
Dissociation.
Imagination.

Alternating footsteps.
Running.
Jumping off.
And soaring.

The Hummingbird that catches.
Prevents the fall and scratches.
Unstruck matches.
Contains fuses and fire.

The flight leads to Land.
Where cotton is sand.
Where Life is grand.
Where Weak Knees can stand.

A lifetime in minutes.
A minute for eternity.
An eternity of chosen Destiny.
A Destiny that'll never be.

A Captain of the Sea.
A Chief among the Trees.
Commander of the Breeze.
In Reality never Free.

Staring off the sand.
Lived lifetimes that never happened.
Just to come back the next day.
Where the Lost is not Astray.

Am I set aside or isolated,
Like a little girl among trees?
Taught to fear the Bad Wolf,
Through my grandmother's stories.

Am I set aside or isolated,
Like grain of sand in an hourglass?
Put away for display,
Only purposeful while it lasts.

Am I set aside or isolated,
Like succulent in a condo?
Deprived of sun, drowned in water,
Bought for someone else's sorrow.

Am I set aside or isolated,
Like a bird with clipped wings?
I have feathers, I could sing,
But was never meant for soaring.

Am I set aside or isolated?
Now I'm pondering in despair.
They say I'm meant for something great,
But not allowed to do better.

"The bad wolf, it'll **** me."
"Outside the glass, I'd be blown away."
"The pretty sun, it might scorch me."
"In my safe bird cage, I'll watch... but stay."