Fix what’s broken

If  it isn’t broke, then break it

The  last of our scene are circled with pitchforks

Yelling, “bleach out all the colors. paint it black and grey. kill off all your heroes. destroy whatever makes you feel unsafe.”

So write off all of your old friends

Tolerance  is a well-swept path to hell

Build  a shrine to your resentment

Tell me again what a rough hand you’ve been dealt

Recirculating  the worry

Holding onto your pain

It doesn’t really get better

That’s just something they say

So,  bleach out all the colors

Paint it black and grey

Kill off all your heroes

Destroy whatever makes you feel unsafe