"
Misanthorpia"
Silenced by the light,
In chaos by blood red waters,
Men blinded by the purity of night.
Tolls are taking their wage,
Nothing left but pure decadence,
And the burning heat of men's rage.
Sword and bow or cannon and mail, makes no matter whose got the serpent's tale,
Rhyming incoherently for self-creating ideals, yet many a men have no idea how it feels.
Trapped upon a war of severed manuscripts, and acidic bleaches take one on a trip, far beyond the reaches of sanity, shredding to pieces, the pathetic idea of someone's humanity.
Through suffering days,
Upon endless nights,
None can understand,
The totality of the plight.
Crooked and corrupted,
Are the way upon all men go,
Revolutionaries deem the falsities and intangible palaces save from flaw,
Yet create many of their own.
Propogation of propoganda,
The sole factor spewing from both sides in slander,
Speaking in tounges of old that criticize the new,
The bullets come out of the blue,
Not caring about with what they collide,
Everyone advancing their own broken mind.
Agenda's from the hating clash with others who do the same,
Everyone's the victim and the murder in this fucked up game.
Someone wants to murder the politicians,
Yet they play one themself,
No one is ever able to understand,
Why each other doesn't get some sort ofhelp.
Misdeeds are the sole propogation of mistrust,
Yet control and isolation are the only lust,
And only certainties that are a must.
The only one with the benefits are those on top,
Yet the ones on the bottom can so easily make them flop.
Seems that the rich can't have ideals,
Because the Anarchists say so,
Never occured to them that Corporates,
Somehow might actually posses a soul.
Chaos supposedly makes one a wise man,
Money makes them greedy,
But when one has both,
They are persecuted every second they don't feed the needy.
I don't understand where superiority comes from,
Rights don't even exist because no one has them,
The seemingly oppressed are the actual suppressors,
Broken men leading all of the blind into sacred grounds,
Yet they've never been there themselves,
No way to guide, and less of a way to hide.
Guns don't go silent on a dime,
But are driven by the dollar,
Screams feed the lust of the killers,
Til they become the victims,
The masterpiece of their own crime.
Can't seem to get the plan,
That they're not part of it,
Playground antics define world politics,
Children rebel against their masters,
Whose offspring rebel against them,
Capitalism favors the rich, yet Communism silences the artists,
Depotists and Totalitarianism removes all from the equation,
A perfect balance of what's right and wrong.
No one's a true human any more,
And all morales are subjective,
So everyone's wrong in their own minds,
And everyone else is left in the cold,
Peace comes with attonement yet attonement never comes, but we need peace to survive.
The annointed can't seem to take care of themselves yet take care of others, a majority committing suicide by starvation while watching the hungry man eat,
The others want no part of this master plan in symbiotic rebelliousness,
A parasite killing it's own host to eliminate it's own resources,
We so fear each other,
But we've got ourselves beat.
Constantly polled with the message that you're either with us or die,
The Anarchists and Survivalists are loaded with guns ready to kill,
Yet the Coporate Sims already know this so they made Anarchy cool,
Anyone who follows either school of thought it a foolish tool,
Yet holding your own opinion makes you a pawn or a copycat,
Because neither side can actually hold a candle to that.
No one has a solution to real problems facing us, humanity wiping itself out with nuclear radition, gluttony and sin, and global warming,
Even though our entire lives we've had plenty of warning, we still ignore the issues facing us,
I wonder how an intelligent race would actually come around to judge us?
We can't even solve our own problems, because we don't even know them, and saldy most of them were made by men.
Even with the focus and disciplines coupled with the new resolve of iron skin, we will never truely get to zen.
Machines are the creation of evil,
Yet the saviours of human kind,
They're more expansive then all of humanity's mind.
Humanity's ideals are wrong,
But for some they seem the right,
No one can understand,
That all men are blinded by the light.
Cheated the way from fringe to elite. Clique of stylists, rounded illogic skipping a beat to a dead cert. By lheaving charges and bursting the abscess, with a forked toungue, bloated with courage and spewing self-importance. Drop your sights, aim lower, leave umblemished those with real power.
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