On The
Verge
When on
the verge, control the demons
On the
verge of mania and suicide beckons
That
sickening feeling of pointlessness when everything disturbs
Nothing
is then an elixir and you’re hitting all the curbs
Do I want
a faerie story with ever after?
Even
though my mind constantly reviles against that disaster
It’s the
white robes and pretensions that there is a hereafter
Their
relatives the Hegelian mystics that rape Liberty’s
daughter
Emotions
screeching and teeth grinding to shrieking
No clarity
or sunshine but dratted humanity is sinking
Humanity not
free because minds are in captivity
Do you
see this lunacy that’s driving a solemn insanity?
With
straight faces the declarations of chosen sexuality
No holds
barred lies and bias by the media society
Reality
is shunned and comfort food hides quick sand
One more
step with no turning back and it’ll be the Black Hand
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