My mind is congested with bodies,
of those who seek excitement.
I see the holy, and the unpolluted
assemble in my thoughts,
They form a congregation
, for those who are unwanted and lost
The faces blend and disappear,
and turn into grey masses
I hear echoes of all fortune,
filling up a bottomless box
They're persuasively ill managed,
in the name of charity,
The code is carefully crafted,
re-programmed and hardwired,
Penetrating the minds of the feeble,
the sheep of our modern time
I seek no answers, or ask for truth,
I am not your shepherd.
The cure for their irrationality,
is a bullet, in a loaded weapon |
dts9624
