Disillusion
The weeks are vapor that I wade right thru
I murmur my lines, somewhat on cue
I swallow my pills and the governmental newsfeed
Millions of children with nothing to eat
A patch of desert host to yet another invasion
Cries for help set to blunt instrumentation
While the third world succumbs to curable affliction
A fresh batch of heads is being conditioned to contradiction
Sitting in the back of the bus contemplating revolution
Inertia in reams as we roll by some beautiful pollution
Spending most waking hours questing for cash
I hate to break it to ya, but we’re all outta gas
My perspective fucked up by grim conclusion
I’ve abandoned protocol in a fit of disillusion
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