What kind of culture are we when it's the hungry feeding the starving?
The dying helping the dead?
The upset counseling the depressed?
This world is coming to an end.
I guess, I can lend a helping hand even if I'm missing fingers, but I've witnessed people bear arms before they reach out, and that figures because human kind usually isn't.
We learn to survive with the lives that we're given
and we usually give up before we give back
it's the ethics that we lack and the fact that we never listen.
Even if we're...
talking our own conscience off the top of a steep building
we don't know what to tell our self esteem so he leaps and it kills him
but you can't die on impact if you never made one.
Or of a heart attack if you never showed love and hopefully you did once because I know I have twice just to fall on my own knife to fight the fear of blood and twist it clock wise because hard times are turning realistic and still no one listens I'm asking, why?
But to me nobody's telling...
why we live backwards both in logic and spelling.
Casting spells and praying within the same sentence I'm life sentencing myself away from the senseless, that way I gravitate toward the compelling.
So I push myself to be alone
as the hope comes and goes
like the ebb and flow of the ghost of acceptance that the wealthy hung by a fucking rope
and I'm hanging by a thread.
Go ahead, pull it. See what unravels me next.
My rival is survival and I'm rallying to keep my breath because I already lost my faith
and I'll pass them both out before I pass out red in the face
and I'm ready to chase the red-face-demon. They say,
what if god was one of us.
But what if the devil was in the same body and what if I told you that body was yours?
Would you embody the fact that your reliable source is unknown?
And that every scripture could have been whispered and misheard like a bad game of telephone?
Where everybody likes to talk but not everyone wants to listen.
Turns the bible into a fire starter and a work of fiction.
Turns the world into a place of fear and conviction.
Where everyone's a convict that sticks to their strict version of jurisdiction.
And I can see the gavel slam in the way that you look at me
as you dissect and decide if I'm street-smart or if I'm just street
got me feeling like a bum I'm bummed out certainly
certain things are best left unsaid is like saying, some things are best left dying
and dying is the only thing binding us as a hole,
a chain of brains growing nothing but mold,
nothing but grey matter
and nothing matters
when nothings bold
in a dead culture of a
deth cvlt

SUBMIT CORRECTIONS