Friday, February 17, 2012


File your initials in my skin
I am already dead
Hours lost in some sort of sickened daze
Lying to myself that I'm alright
Sucked dry
Dead but still walking
Did the institution
Finally steal my soul?
Locked me up in whitewashed walls
Shut out the light
March in a line
Speak when spoken to
You have no rights
Just burn the Charter now
It's a lie
Everyone's will be heard first
Tell the children
Sweet little lies
Cover their ears
Paint illusions of false hope
This is your job
Now take your place
Now wait in line
Make things easier
Create an illusion of success
Don't worry it will get easier

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