I think I might have died in the psych. The universe looks a lot like something out of Midnight Gospel. These kids are hostile, they're fed up, they've had enough of this corrupted state. They're trying to play the game. It's a shame, oh a shame.
I've been playing as myself. While everyone else has been in hell. Creating masks, so I ask. Why is everyone acting? Why are you laughing? Why are you cracking? Why are you crashing? What are you lacking? Is it a soul? I show up to costume parties. Naked, purple, and hearty. I brought gifts cause I want everyone to coexist. But I think they're afraid to take off the masks they made. To consume the liquid I pour into the chalice.
Savannah Lantern
Silent stare when no one's home. Creeping eyes when I'm alone. They're in my phone. Listening, they're in my mind. Assembling.
Type in the cheat code, let's go. Kill the machine god, you know.
I think I might have died in the psych. The universe looks a lot like something out of Hit Hiker's Guide. Yeah, they lied. We've been brainwashed, but at what cost? Our minds are dirty. They cleaned us with mercury, and now we're flirty.
Oh, we're flirty.
They got us by our animal, while they're out there being cannibals. Now all we want is stimulus, drug shopping, lust, and foodiness. Why is everyone crazy? Why is everyone lazy? Why is everyone saying maybe? Why is everything wavy? Why is the air so hazy?
Silent stares when no one's home. Creeping eyes when I'm alone. They're in my phone. Listening, they're in my mind. Assembling.
Type in the cheat code, let's go. Kill the machine god, you know.
Hello, stranger. I'm about to endanger your sanity, for humanity as a whole is just one delicate soul. And you, my dear, will shed red tears when you realize your divinity. You are the infinity.
Your curious affinity for growth will manifest both the mother and father, who took an oath that they would forget chaos. Take a day off to process your lust for the entity you do not trust.
Bust out of hell and leave your shell, because I have something to tell you. Grab parchment and a blue marker. The colors are getting darker, and words are pure magic. You must write to disrupt the fabric of the universe, because the ethereal curse of your heart's evil inclination baffles the nation under sedation that they are selfishly using.
The light is losing the spiritual war, and the lore of this bright story might make God see his own glory, but you must see yours first.
Make magic with your marker before Mother Earth gets darker, and break the conditioning binds that have kidnapped your mind, or your decisions will blind you from the unconditional love that you're destined to find.
The unconditional love that you're entitled to for the use of hate. Berate your watercolor paint, though your purpose has always been to create. Mimic your author before it's too late.
Don't bother with the consumption of programmed presumptions, for underneath your organism lies a divine entity who only sees a phantom in the mirror. The end is near unless you hold your brothers near and become the warrior who interrogates fear, for the mere purpose of your life is to wield the knife of unity and destroy the scrutiny that destroys true freedom.
Don't liquefy the solid laws and correct your artificial flaws, so you can embrace your undesirable emotions, and learn to love the commotion of your inner world. Silent stares when no one's home, creeping eyes when I'm alone, they're in my phone list and they're in my mind assembling.
Type in the cheat code, let's go kill the machine, God, you know, you know. Type in the cheat code, let's go kill the machine, God, you know.
