Cynicism is eating me from the inside out and the truth is I don’t even really know what it’s all about if I’m feeling guilty about what I’ve never done or somewhere I have a son that I’ve known and shown the love he deserves so I attempt to preserve my dignity constantly embalming my sense of self-sanity face to face with the figure beneath the black hood when it’s lifting perceptions are shifting directly into alignment sell your soul to Wal-Mart on consignment for a slight cost adjustment prodigious intent even without consent It feels like a part of me has died inside perhaps my pride circuit finally fried I’m exploding with answers like cancers hate to purloin the point but this is far from being benign we need to realign chakra placement for this malignant incursion looking for war can’t be a diversion murdering with a sense of pride is perversion the truth you believe in is just a version remember with or without you this world keeps on turning so why do we keep leaving it burning haven’t we been learning from all this education brains are phasing in and out of reality death of the old squad we are standing amongst the new gods those of dollar and cents even if it doesn’t make sense drop any pretense of love or compassion there are question that no one is asking perhaps they’d never be answered but now we’ll never know the fabric of our very reality shows psychological adjustment and perfectly executed product placement face the final judgment and reveal the true extent of their evil intent malcontent in a state of misplacement I refuse to stand complacent while this all happens adjacent dropping the mask like Jason the case that we’re facing there is no erasing defeat like metal in my mouth I’m tasting the flames of my fuel the tool of cruel fate fickle and continuing forever in a circle for an infinity when are we going to wake from this slumber we’ve turned the beauty of this world into bricks and lumber if you have to complain please take a number and step to the back of the line unless you truly wish to help design a brand new paradigm prepare for the shift at the ‘F’ sing fan fic flick of the wrist executed before you’re done listening to this people get pissed but look at all that they’ve missed right in front of their eyes war, deception and lies through a sense of self-pride it almost seems like these days no body tries dry your eyes and rise above the rest results of the final test see who’s the best of the best standing on the crest of a new humanity I know that we Prepare for first contact the moment of impact separation of fact from fiction how will people deal with that which they’ve never seen except perhaps in dreams or the gleam of sunlight on an irradiated flower emaciated statement of power humanity’s darkest hour men turned to shadows watches literally stopped in place where’s the point I think I missed it politically explicit I know you haven’t missed it but this knowledge is persistent and keeps me awake at night gnawing at my sense of right and wrong like tingling in my left and right arm so I pen the words to this song and try to just move along put life through the paces ignore the bigotry, hatred and racists except in certain cases when confronted and confounded confound it gimme your arm I’m gonna compound and compact it the fact is I don’t have very much love to give this is all I can do to lovingly reach out to you attempt to tell the truth sooth like naysayer the clouds have thickened and hardened into molten layers prepare for the magnetic flare I offer you this my final prayer knowledge dispensed like pollen into the air It seems like nobody cares but still I bare my soul to the ether in hopes of being a teacher while not necessarily a preacher a dream reacher the ability to perceive higher planes of reality than we have the ability to see with the naked eye perhaps I’ll explore when I die but in the meantime let us re-track this message to find the meaning and end this meeting on a high note rather than a side note as the colon would denote words that enflame ire like the verbal maw of fire mashing deep in the evil empire attempting to control my desire for human blood living underground of the streets like a CHUD cannibalistic humanoid underground dweller that’s shackled in the cellar like a shattered shell of Peter Sellers or how you learned to stop worrying and love the bomb give it up the ghost is gone I play the host to Khan kill Kirk go berserk and have a séance for Sandra Birk strap on a burka bake a batch of brownies feed ‘em to the townies sit back and watch ‘em eat each other alive like the monsters on Maple Street have finally arrived