What a pretty picture
but little do we know they have
already burnt out.
Push and pull just to breathe,
just to get by.
How are we supposed to dream,
when we can barely sleep at night?
But yeah its just another day in the sun,
out in the crowd, bleeding all so red,
no one stops to see,
the green in their eyes,
keeps them in stride with the devils
that seem to shape you and I.
So yeah when was the last time you saw your shadow
your reflection? cause like my conscience it follows,
through blackened nights, through the haze,
I emerge knowing no matter how hard I try I can't escape myself.
The consequences have become too dire to ignore,
as wounds become serious (now) critical (now) fatal,
the scars won't heal.
Oh the end seems so far, so enchanting.
But it will never be a pretty picture, as you say
"we have no choice!!!"
So then lets just go on living,
if thats what you call it.
Its so easy for you to close your eyes,
turn your back, so easy, for this pen,
to bleed black.
Because whats in front of us,
is so blank, so square, so thin.
We were once natural, but now
oh so manufactured, one dimensional,
to fit in anywhere.