Perhaps I can say it was my passion To think vividly and put that picture into a composition To come up with silly adjectives and a strong emotion But perhaps, I was wrong about that notion
This system that has corrupted me Where compassion is much like the dead sea Those students that hide their knowledge and secrets All being sly and sitting beside their best bets
Reaching out a hand seems quite a challenge With incapability to pick up a lecture seems like an overwhelming package People were fascinated with lessons such as "competitive advantage" When deep down inside, I was already damaged
Thank you, for creating a war inside my head That expressing myself would be a dread So judge me if I loathe this useless algorithm Because in these words I now struggle to find the perfect rhythm