Apr 15
~
It feels like the anesthetic is wearing off
This circus of machines
From coin-operated hostility
To wholesale apathy refineries
They tell us it's winter down in the subdermal
They tell us the foundation has grown weak
Dislocation is a incoming storm
Mirrors are distorted screens
Placeholders really
In a city without children
Even the statues weep
Snow upon the ground that was once blood
Now an empire without heirs
Even the trees hate us
~
It feels like the anesthetic is wearing off
This circus of machines
From coin-operated hostility
To wholesale apathy refineries
They tell us it's winter down in the subdermal
They tell us the foundation has grown weak
Dislocation is a incoming storm
Mirrors are distorted screens
Placeholders really
In a city without children
Even the statues weep
Snow upon the ground that was once blood
Now an empire without heirs
Even the trees hate us
~
(50/M/The Exclusion Zone)
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