A Slow Erosion of The Senses

The world is slowly losing its mind
Some of it is slowly drifting away
Some is just burnt and left behind.
If you see the world from behind my lenses
It’s a slow erosion of the senses.
We spray poisonous amounts of money,
To retain our sanity.
We construct walls,
And believe we have some clarity.

How many fathers will you, in vain, lose,
Till you realize your life has no real purpose or use.
How many lovers will you break,
Before you realize true love wasn’t yours to make.
No, No… No!
You were born to be mad, mad… Mad!
mad as your thoughts can be and the dreams you’ve had!

But I’ll tell you what you would rather do,
Cause you’re just so bloody predictable, aren’t you?
You will cling desperately until your last breath,
Until you’re on the brink of death.
At your last moments when you’re dull mind is truly awake,
You will realize that the money and the walls weren’t you really,
And all you have been is a fake.

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