I sit strapped in

Waiting for someone to fasten in my passion

Next to me

Worried someone else might take the action

Toward compassion

Fuck this faction

Fact is my fashion causes wide distraction

The mass harasses, while I'm sitting accepting passes

Spark up the magic that I bask in

Watch my life leap from the rations in dances

Man are we laughing

Put the past in a casket, along with ashes on the sweatshirt that tends to be catching

The blackness that comes crashing down

Into ashen arms that are fascist

See my glasses shatter when they don't understand this egotistical canvas