Praise, praise until that’s all you know
Until the blood dries
Until they sharpen their knife’s
Until they slit your throat
Until you beg for it again
Until you vote for your decease
Until your eyes go grey and your skin turns blue
Again, again, again
Die, die, die
Again, again, again
Lie, lie because it’s safe
Lie because it’s life
Lie because it’s what they do.
It’s what you do.
Sing the unfinished symphony
This great unfinished symphony.
You sing but not know the words
You sing but not know the melody.
Why do you sing it?
The song is a poison on our tongue and a drug in our mind.
My mind
Your mind
Their mind.
Theirs.
Their unreal reality
Their unreal faith
Their real anger
Their real name.
They lie as we feed.
They play the melody to the sweet unreal symphony.
What do we truly sing too?
What do you do in a unfinished reality?