Sometimes the fondness
Of what we feel inside
Can't fill the void
Tragedy tries to hide
For we seem to long
For suffering, masquerading
As if it's happiness
We seek
But the irony's what's
Funny, 'cause the turmoil
Boasts of self-righteous
Anger
Where it's always someone
Else who is
To blame
And it's always us who's
Done the sacrifices
For the game
It's all nothing
But neediness, preparing us
To be accepting of what we ultimately are
Savages.
Jun 4, 2022
Jun 4, 2022 at 7:06 AM UTC
Sometimes the fondness
Of what we feel inside
Can't fill the void
Tragedy tries to hide
For we seem to long
For suffering, masquerading
As if it's happiness
We seek
But the irony's what's
Funny, 'cause the turmoil
Boasts of self-righteous
Anger
Where it's always someone
Else who is
To blame
And it's always us who's
Done the sacrifices
For the game
It's all nothing
But neediness, preparing us
To be accepting of what we ultimately are
Savages.
