A Past Unknown Philosophy Of The Dying
I’ll find my way, I won’t give in. Your words head
straight for the coffin, it’s not too late to see. We’re
taught to think free. You’re just a puppet, believing
everything you can only see, when reason fails to explain
the unseen, foolishness is captivating.
Take your speech, you won’t fool me. The wise fail to see
their wisdom is empty. Where is the wise? If the dead
rise you would still hide in your futile mind, there’s
more that meets the eye.
Do you see what they’re feeding? Another number with no
meaning, you’re a puppet in their eyes to take their
venom to everyone. They don’t care who you are,
meaningless with no purpose. Is this what you want to be?
Following the mold of uncertainty? Not this time.
Reject their claims, you are worth everything. Blood is
what was paid to ensure your existence and make you
clean. Explain a soul set free, reality; they’re the
puppets, not me.
I want to be something, I want to be loved, I have a
purpose, I will break the mold. I will never believe I
evolved with no meaning. Strings severed for the last
time, your ignorance will find you out. You’re not
pulling me into your void theories cause in the end I
guarantee, this isn’t the end for you and me.
