We are wired for anonymity , yet ..
We jot foolishness on paper in the hope of pack acceptance , we strive for
a rhyme , tell of our fears on a lark then fire machine guns into the dark
We choose honor in the light but in the lonely night we just don't give
a **** , we jam another magazine and fire at will without giving a **** who we hit , that's the split second home where mans consciousness truly lives* ...