Before my bloodstream's polluted with manufactured motivation..
Attention called to minute details
by the list making apparatus
Leaving out open-minded ideals
Cleaned up in linear format

On a soapbox now
Defining my own propaganda
Without trying to sell everyone something
The things that keep us pacified 
The things that the doctor prescribes 
To keep the sheep in line
The condensed herd
Share a lost mind 
Conform follows dysfunction
Following the leader off the cliff of innocence
After we found ourselves thinking about the end again. 
The illusion of security.

A veil of hazed fog lifts to reveal the ugliness we hide 
The aftermath of nights spent beating out hearts into the foreground as Mr. Hyde

Behind a plagiarized euphoric state
This smiles meant to fake
At least until I get what I want...
Then I'm tripping over clothes en route to escape
The anti-walk of shame.