Venom

The fault in our reason,
The conformity within our treason,
Decibles of hate deafening our senses,
Crucified individuality, living on a wretched consensus.

We think not with our minds of clay,
Born to follow what our leaders say,
Forked tongues in twisted mouths,
For change, we have nothing but time.

Borrowed words that expose the faults,
Of a wasteland claimed by human drought,
The narcissim of our race reigning supereme,
Nauseous aversion to purity infecting our dreams.

Why was i born as a pawn in this creed?
Surrounded by deciet, self-destruction and greed,
Could i have not been born as a rock?
Stonned to numbness by these artifical faults.

[Cluster V]