I think I understand it now, life that is,
How easy it is to lose the sense of control in all this.
We're trapped like animals and on a conveyor belt,
Awaiting judgement from a consuming generation, but hell,
I'm guiltily part of that as well.
I think I get how people get lost in the numbness of judgement and consumption,
We're all consumers consuming humour and a humans convulsions.
That repetitive nature of the newest generations has change the world,
No longer do we fight the same fight and stand beside the typical Gerald.
We look to be hurt by others and take a leap of ill-faith into broken people,
Expecting them to catch us when they can't even find love to love themselves; never mind other people.
We hurt ourselves to pause the conveyor belt,
We harm ourselves to draw blood and feel pain and escape our modern hell.
We snap like thin hard wax and damage our perfect bodies,
When we're so powerful; we could revolt and fill the lobbies.
We can make a change, stop the automatic production,
But in a modern world, we're the creators of our own destruction.
This ramble comes from the coping mechanism of hurting yourself to feel in control of your life.
Just something I wished to shed light on and get off my chest.
