A schizophrenics ticks were sold at auction
Words collected from toilet stalls across the southwest
The proceeds steal the strut from souls warm in the luxury of existing
A new gold trim for your gods sky strapped in boxes full of free wills final folly
Deconstructing notions of peace absent of preconceived greatness
Keeping company with ghosts...
who insist the sincerest toast..
is the one held above extending loves reminder that hate is just as exhausting
Let us all gather in this time stained hollow for a symphony strung through our malfunction system
What are these ticks...
When the time slips and I find that my life was only a series of sublime distractions
reality portrayed as an ever elusive interpretation
A fist clenched in the face of fallacy forced from mouths fat with gold tooth gumption
Pocket computer mutes the astute perception needed for sincerity
Contraptions consolidate the wonders for easy consumption
DNA inclined to a nomadic existence snuffed with fluff from talk show syndrome
A strangers blunders broadcasted into all our corners
Mourning the turning of a record full of nostalgia
Control the skulls with pill flavored filling
Like rusted hardware churning an absurd mixture
We all sway to the hum of static hilarity
I've spent some time on the lines between fine and terrified
Detached from the reactions of a stranger collision
Realigned with a crime lacking the savvy for sigh filled predators
If you find sense in the nonsensical then get ready for an existence steady with haphazard jesters rendering satire from social observation
Farewell to the freak that speaks reason inside a plastic world
A lack of gods for complicating compelled a mind to attempt liberation
horizons painted on signs indicating fines for existing
duck and cover from a feather plucked from a sky strapped wing
I have nothing left and your frustration is not unlike a snail high on amphetamines