It is not the sun that lights my path.
It never will and never has.
And as age slowly cripples me
I realize, without the sun I'll ever be.
In this time of plastic body parts,
A culture with no concept of art,
Lit by the fake and fluorescent suns,
Where the only language heard comes from the mouth
of a gun
I am not alone in this dark and natural dankness.
We are children who grow|and are thankless.
We cannot even dream of open spaces.
The television reflects a bleak reality on our faces.
It's a time of war|the enemy is everyone.
Time has stopped in this world void of sun.
All that's left is the intent to ****.
And our only way out is to simply stand still.
Written as I worked at Subway..