I write to spite
A world enthralled with the massacre of solitude
A world born crude
And through the back door it grew into this monster
This anarchic regime of the intimidation of an individualistic code
So your abode
Your humble palace
Watch it burn in a rich mans chalice
The drug of choice
For an autocratic voice
High on power and rushing on the blood of those who suffer
Their kicks kick in as we turn against each other
No longer can their atrocities
Be forced upon us as our responsibilities
As consciousness  grows and insecurities fail
The reality of the indignation, is all you can inhale
So all those thoughts of prosperity ,wealth, appearance and social acceptance
May they perish and persuade us no more
It will end the way it started
The chaos of when destiny has departed
The illegitimate ways
That have blighted our days
Lost amidst the thrill of the unknown
Forever forgotten as we who are left to reap the rewards of the seeds we have sown