Awoken from the fever dream
To find a nightmare in its place
Force fed the joy through the brain rot
Self inflicted trauma divides a species passing on the fault
Overfeeding our egos to rupture the cerebellum
Nostalgic for our misery we close off every route of escape
Delirious, masochistic, cold
The inner sadist clawing its way to the surface
Gleefully regurgitating the hatred thats been spewed
The cold chains binding us with a warm embrace
Convinced us the root of the problem resides within our heads
Ascension
We allowed them to achieve a higher status and to lower our standards
Affliction
A harbinger of the plague, amalgamating our ailments
A placebo cure if we deface our kin;
Compassion becomes a societal ill
Choking ourselves on the spoon fed venom but
The poison tastes less bitter than the medicine
Transcended to the status of gods
Deify our sadistic leaders
The ones that have justified
The rapes, the murders, the genocides
The ones that wrote the history
Just to devote all our minds
Continuous pacification
Terror is now beautiful
A prison inescapable
A system broken and can’t ever be fixed
How we've always lived, never a home, never a safe place
Believe the reflexive, non-reflexive narrative
If it isn’t real neither are the consequences
Choking
From the fumes of the slow decay so malicious and ever so comforting. The stench of death permeating from our
Final breath
A pacifist, defeatist, sadist, nihilist, a sick and masochistic pig; false nostalgia epidemic
Scorn
Our leaders torched Eden and then claimed our souls
Loss
Harboring the hate to fill the dead space
Sink
Drowning in the blood of our complacency
Burn
With the last of what is ours
Its how it always was
We don’t know better
They showed contempt
So we gave them our loyalty
Sink
Low
Drowning in the blood of our complacency
Grasping
Desperate
Finite survival tactics won’t endure the slow decay
Breach their minds
Breed a lie
Hearts of scorn
Souls forlorn
Truth obscured
Vestigial hope
Masses inured
Watch them choke
The damages to ourselves are irreversible
No matter how much we cling to the nostalgic myth of better days
The bleakness of our present corrupts the hope of an alteration in the nature of our future
It's how it always was
It's how it is
It's how it always will be