There is a feeling that comes over me, when I sit upon my wasting throne

A kind of nullifying sense I’m free, but I’m locked in this fucking dream

And I know my fucking place, within the subject world

The image of deceit and screams

The laughter that unfolds

Is this some kind of fucking tragedy? Am I the only fucking tool in use?

I’m plugged in and I can’t seem to find release, in this fucked up world

Do you know your fucking place? You seem to know where I belong

So many years you’ve been displaced, while staying right there all along

I need to fucking break

Reevaluate the fucking lifeless as you contemplate a reasonable tactic, reaped and sowed

Common sense will perish and the world that you once cherished leaves no reason that must be keeping it in tow.

Is this some kind of fuckin tragedy? Am I the only fucking tool in use?

I’m fucked up and I’m used

I think I’ve found my fucking place, amongst the useless fools

I’ve figured out where we belong, and damnation seems, only ruse

Forfeit every reason you think holds you down and open your mind

Resonate on something else before it leaves you for death

There must be something outside these walls

For my enemy, I feel empathy

For the common man I feel endless pain

For my long lost sanity I feel overstated, and somewhere out of place

For the ending now, I feel something resembling the feeling of peace

It’s hard to recognize yourself, in this reflective piece

It’s hard to state how vital it is, to fucking find release

Something above every mistake