Truth speaks,
Hell (.)
But the Currency is deafening.

People barely care
They're never not *******
or ever really listening.

But a grave we dug
No matter how grave,
When mud thuds I hope
We're snug.

What we made and
From that there's no reckoning.

A dark and dreary lane
But we saw and saught this
Figure beckoning.

Looking for release
And we only found
Another prison to lease.

Soon to be future
That has passed,
A shame for mud
But we couldn't last.