Call it seeking bliss, call it religion, philosophy or dismiss it as usual business.
All lofty, all far off from the main theme, what is inhibiting your dreams?
We are stolen. Yes, captive. The global imagination the captor.
Are you standard? Good, we’ll force feed you some more ‘should.’
Thing is that you are two things: awareness and being.
Why so caught up in the latter? This is an adventure, don’t mistake it with enterprise
I swear to God you’ll die inside
Singing: ‘can’t’, shit-canned, banding for the clandestined rant, sad.
Stop bracing the other as a mother if you can’t own up to your status as brother
Okay you got like one person who has your back, good thing is that he’s strapped to your sack but all you imagine is the flack of that fact, get out of the gutter
You turn your back to the idol you praise, sacrificed your spine for glory days.
Ya no wonder the fucking dazy haze, you should’ve prayed but you’re all display
Who to seek consolation from, the midget self you’ve bantered with a dwarf hammer into an elf? Yup, embrace his stealth for your attempts have been evaded for as long as you’ve let yourself fade and become jaded.
Opposing the scene aesthetics that governed your adolescence deeming them troublesome weather – Oh… it doesn’t hurt so bad to get better.
Clutch the fist not in revolution – that’s blind in the light of solution
Get used to it – you can’t bash the way through bruising yourself
Lest you lose yourself, get used to yourself