We walk around in solitude,
And stand by ourselves.
Our eyes see each other:
Flesh, and flesh alone is what we see,
It's what we seek.
We want the outer shell.
The soul is just an addition on the inside;
A thing hidden from the world,
That's not to be considered:
Just ignored and suppressed.
We're dominated in our minds,
We're slaves of the likes and the trends,
We want to be who they see us as,
But they, but we, but everybody can only see the flesh;
And that is what we seek.
We won't believe in what can't be seen.
We've grown to forsake the lurking monsters,
They were banished by rationality;
And when our conscience raises it's head,
It's just ignored and oppressed.
We've turned into Automatons;
Mannequins, who can style themselves.
The soul, hidden inside,
Is something that can't be seen,
And so, it isn't considered, isn't wanted;
Only flesh is what we seek.
While our soul shrivels up, decayed and decrypt,
Our flesh, we keep intact.
We swallow the infernal ache,
And plaster the cracks on our smiling face--
And the cries of our soul, we keep repressed.
*For, we care for what they see.
They can only see the flesh,
And flesh is what they seek.
