11:26
5000 miles and still the same old opportunities lay in wait, ripe for the moment of presentation.
5000 miles and still, there has been no alterations made to this strange course of events.
It's a low budget cartoon stuck in your DVR, set to repeat itself on a continual loop, altering faces, masks, but never the underlying characteristics of those who choose to lend their voices.
This is a song that has been sung before. A melody I can't quite shake. Forced to wake, morning after morning, lending my own harmony to the role.
Her eyes lit up when she saw me, having already flushed out my history.
Even here, a slave to what I have always been. Freedom, the grand illusion enforced to make me move.
Conspiracy Theories and New World Orders...even the great white north is not immune. Here that sticky amber bubble freezes much more quickly, and as Vonnegut has already taught us, there is no why.
The trap was set here. It will be set there. Anywhere. I birth my own amber. Create my own conspiracies, and lie to myself on a continual basis in an attempt to pretend I don't.
Set to paper, bled in ink, I realize my folly. Why fight the opportunity? Assimilation so much easier already having the protocol set to memory. Why not choose the mask? When to wear it...when to take it off...and do my best to make the most out of this grand charade. I was born for the stage...does it matter which one?
5000 miles and still, there has been no alterations made to this strange course of events.
It's a low budget cartoon stuck in your DVR, set to repeat itself on a continual loop, altering faces, masks, but never the underlying characteristics of those who choose to lend their voices.
This is a song that has been sung before. A melody I can't quite shake. Forced to wake, morning after morning, lending my own harmony to the role.
Her eyes lit up when she saw me, having already flushed out my history.
Even here, a slave to what I have always been. Freedom, the grand illusion enforced to make me move.
Conspiracy Theories and New World Orders...even the great white north is not immune. Here that sticky amber bubble freezes much more quickly, and as Vonnegut has already taught us, there is no why.
The trap was set here. It will be set there. Anywhere. I birth my own amber. Create my own conspiracies, and lie to myself on a continual basis in an attempt to pretend I don't.
Set to paper, bled in ink, I realize my folly. Why fight the opportunity? Assimilation so much easier already having the protocol set to memory. Why not choose the mask? When to wear it...when to take it off...and do my best to make the most out of this grand charade. I was born for the stage...does it matter which one?
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