I`m sick of it all. . The endless dead romance,
Where we I sit and I pick at the thorns, of a red rose branch.
And it`s depicted in all, of our facial expressions,
As we await spates of hate, All it takes is a second.
We escape through our records, with a boundless abundance,
While cheap labours ground us to dust, and now found us redundant.
Trust my floundering judgement, to leave when I needed it most,
The greed their feeding us, keeping us from the freedom we toast.
Bleeding us whole, I feel my insecurites have been raped,
This rotten Gotham's become a featureless state I need to escape.
The demons I face, are undergoing a pseudo-metamorphosis,
I seek to find new peace of mind and something more than THIS!
These walls depict, the blank canvas I now have become,
The boy lost, facing humiliation he's been cowering from.
With no redeeming qualities, I often sit in a black flume,
Turning the 'Great Depression' into me slitting my wrists in the bathroom.
The hideous black womb, of a gaunt world in motion,
I hide away from the silent gaze and right of way my girls devoting.
The unfurling ocean, bathes my sorely calloused feet,
Summizing me until I can finally see this is all a fantasy.
Yet good fortune carries me, through this dire life of sin,
Where it takes a bitter upheaval to ignite the fire within.
No knowing where to quite begin, yet we STILL search for answers,
And blindly follow a Lord striking loved ones, with virulent germs and cancer.
I burn with rancour, at the thought of my heart of gold,
Being tarnished by a nark as cold, as Arctic snow.
We've far to go, until we find the essence of life,
The worlds our oyster, we'll feast on it when the peasants unite!
In the dead of the night, we'll rise again to claim our thrones,
And in a blaze of raining bows, we'll step up to take control.
As the gates unfold, I'll march to the front of our fleet or rank,
And proceed with 'Be Seated.' See,
Im just bein' Frank...
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