They describe themselves as such good people
Just because they un-ceasingly chat about nothing
And believe in normal more than heart
Yet who does this save them from?
There is a puppet playing with the light inside peoples souls
Telling them vanity is an answer
As long you you don't need o have questions
Is that freedom?
Being so possessed by mindlessness that that is your mind
Existing by batteries and little keys that tell you
"I'm doing no, just ******* you lifeless."
All they do is smile and gape while dementors kiss
Because society left culture in a delapidated dumpster mutilated
And we all die in the nothing
Baring our scars