Dump

We live in a world of failed prophecies
Where the stars are your only forlornness
Where every wayside has been overshined
Skirting the junk and the rest of suchlike
Where people get stalled in a fallen pose
Coming in troops for another dose
Right to their brilliance murderers
For another stylish look and technologies
Where childrens heads are so broken by these
Gratuitously given semblancies
Illusions of having giftedness...

Silent factories are inside of us
So, where are they getting this data from?
You are trying to live in harmony
In the likeness of their efficiency
But you spend your life chaotically.
To make something here
You need to use something of yours,
An instrument and your own resource


So let's originate, at least something good, in league with you
Where wars and pain will be a silly forgotten prehistory
Of crack headed beings at the turn of the new CE
Against lie and the staining of the unseen
It may have been true that our very prophecy
Is to unchain our mind, our shackled capacity