Despite all my rage I’m just a rat in a cage,
dubiously determined to turn the pegs on their wheel,
I swallow pride and watch silently as they sell my rage,
Banks make billions, in front of them I kneel,
I haven’t wrote a single of my history’s page,
The emotions that I feel I have to steal,
from their entertainment and marketing stage,
induce the brain with chemicals – is this real?
Cops shoot civilians but aren’t villains,
life has become the path of individuality,
stuck in their induced mental prison,
I stumble in the dark searching for rationality,
I stab and push – I search for truth in killing,
the essence of normality is a scope of brutality,
I can’t achieve anything but I find it fulfilling,
to take pride in senseless patriotic mentality.
The monkey on my back is still flinging shit at me,
if I shake him off I lose my only constant,
I find compassion in his treatment of bestiality,
my character is shaped but my soul is haunted,
I dream of waking up and being free,
yet I am exhausted and artificially despondent,
I see the morals and ethics lynched on the tree,
and the masses scurrying to it like a convent.
Lost hope, sacrifice and resilience,
returned to the pitfalls of my own mind,
I enjoy the glory of our difference,
the competition has made me morally blind,
chasing death in the suit of obedience,
it is a light we are supposed to find,
but I will resort to the acceleration of deviance.