Children Of Fall Becoming Less
All I know is that which surrounds me
But I lack the means to comprehend it, and the language to describe it
It is the stuff dreams are made of, and then kept at a safe distance
The choices I am given, don't seem like choices at all
If I'm told often enough, I'll end up believing I'm wrong
And I can't say anything about it, except that it works
No priorities (of my own), such is my privilege, trust me it hurts
All I know is that which defines me, my belongings and my body
The rest is invalid, but I don't want to be so easily defined
To be so easily kept in line
There's no point of denying what we have become
At the end of the tunnel there's just another one
And the feeling of being reduced, can't be reduced by anything
All I know is that which is me, and it's becoming less
