Moving right along. We gotta be doing it like…every single day. Pushing though polluted waves of aimless bodies. Following the same simple lead backed by the lowest, slowest, soulless. Fuck.
Am I the one that has to show you, at the cost of my contact? Fine, I’ve always felt separate from it anyway. The young ones fantasize, borrowing clothes. Know-nothings with open mouths while minds are closed. Acting out, but never step out of line. Dim and dense, but appearing to shine somehow. You motherfuckers. Raise flags in an image of your captors. Victims yet. If you need me to repeat myself, I would a thousand times if it gave you my sight for a second. If you could feel my plight for a moment. The motive I’ve chosen; to grow this and will you to notice. I hope you know. So fuck it make me famous or shoot me in the head. Whatever it may take so you’ll remember what I said. Just don’t send me out to pasture and forget I ever grew, because getting to you could be something I may never do. The pain of it drives me. While your models hitch a free ride, we’re scraping up for gas. Fuck. It’s so hard for me to admit that I need you, because I know too much about something that might be true. They’ll give it up the instant they’re found out. Once you see they’re only droning and growling. Hoping that you never truly listen. Smoke clouding your vision. They don’t want you to know. They don’t want you to listen. With the smoke clouding your vision. I hope you know, they just want to be. They just want to be heard of.