Sensory assault, a passive attack,

Dysfunction of dellusions, callous hands,

Dreams of abolition, war is in our palms,

Leaves cut into cannons, our minds are taking arms.


A blueprint of your creation.


Some say it's going under all the psychotics in our bed,

The dreams of naked women, no longer make me wet,

I'm tired of sex and "love" the lies that we can't keep,

Blister marks line your face, that's the acid in your weep.


A single second can be my mentor, my mind it parts its ways,

Dreams are going under all the tidal waves,

Tsunami's clasp is crushing you, in its phosphorescent peaks,

Rage against the sand storm,

Brittle; your face can creak.


We're swarming in the dark harvest,

Sniffing up our cocaine dreams,

Soaking deconstructive,

Sewing up the seams.


A memory we can't paint,

We find and don't create.


Fuck all the women, fuck all the men,

lets just break it down piece by piece,

And just be one again,

We're only fucking human,

Not social labor slaves,

We never live forever,

So why should we prepare our graves,

Lets live and die,

And live some more,

Kick down the remnants of heavens door.

The End

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