I'm aware of what isn't, I'm still a peasant, memory's not pleasant,
my brain's not present, I'm in the presence of another's essence,
I'm here with a vengeance, on my mother's breath, I pray for my father's death,

I'm not here for lessons, I'm not here to listen, I'm here with a vision, no goal but on a mission,
lost my soul and now I don't have the heart take make a decision,
the thing about love is that it cuts with precision, if you hate enough you can join the legion,

take a revision, come now, take a test, all the maths in your head, add all the mad in your head, all the sad in your mind filled with education,
the time holds still, you'd rather be blind, not par taking in the anticipation, participating, precipitating without a reason,

you change colours every season, collecting the wreck, wrecking the tech, rolling the tapes until the ends connect, aware what is, but still missing what isn't,

if somebody tried to break your neck, would you help if it was in a way that is considered to be decent ?,
if it was pleasant, would you be the peasant that cries in the absence of his kings presence, isn't that religion ?,


I see, I feel, as if I'm not seeing the real picture, all these scriptures and spiritual teachers whisper, the same, it's now in fashion, to have a passion, to be insane.

if I'm ever back in the region, I'll send a message through the pigeons, a safe passage for the superstition, last page reserved for the delusions, ask hate, if it means the same if you create illusions,

you're prolly havin' a fun time if you're not part of the solution, **** this world, it's just seven continents and one ocean, full of walls, doors that never open,

wage a war but don't show any emotions,
don't heal if it's broken, it's just awoken,
I'm in a commotion, with all these monuments inside of me full of torment, I'm done with answers I don't ever want to question, I'm done with erosion, my veins are full of poison,

I'm aware of what isn't, I'm still a peasant, memory's not pleasant, my brain's not present, I'm in the presence of another's essence, I'm here with a vengeance, on my mother's breath, I pray for my father's death,

I'm not here for lessons, I'm not here to listen, no, I'm not really here to be fed and see. I'm here for the kingdom, when I'm dreaming in my bed, I'm in a prison, talking free, I'm prolly what Polybius was envisioned to be, a random mathematical equation,

something for everyone to see, something for everyone to feel,
anything for anybody who's somebody, but not everybody is free enough to see what i see, in my prison, where i got past the last season, after killing me, after filling me with theories those are prolly my only, I'm so lonely, even in my thoughts, caught in my rot, with nobody to free, you see I killed myself a long time ago, I don't know who I am anymore, before I was sure and now not anymore, I have less and I want more, cashless but I want the store, faithless but I'm *******, so hard to explore, and sooner than later after I explode, I'll still be a stranger prolly a Polybius export, Polybius in my blood, strange things and places I implore, stop wearing those faces, I'm weird enough in my own, I don't want you to own my lore, I'm prolly a Polybius, impervious to imagination, obviously what's obvious isn't how it's all supposed to be, innocence is so vicious, infectious, prolly oblivious, it's my Polybius, so ?

it's a mad world and it grows, it glows in the dark, it doesn't matter how far you run, who you are , how far you are, what you've done,  it won't ask, it's prolly Polybius, no ?