Crawling down the rabbit hole through the catacombs in a cataclysmic culture of apocalyptic battle drones.
Always going home trying to forget purgatory where you've been and all the demons that you've met.
Complacently placed and encased in a maze. Escapism, hatred, engrained in the face.
In case it was fate to be late for the wake. Forsaken the pain so they wait by the grave.//

Tick tock tick tock. Your time will never come.
Eternity is knocking at the clock and kicking drums.
Drip drop drip drop. They're lying from the tongue,
while I'm burning up in rocking chairs and ripping out my lungs.
It's kinda hard to breathe when your arteries are hardening
and parting like the sea while everybody else is partying.
Pardon me but I don't wanna see the part of me
that's up to par with scaring hearts and hardly ever harvesting.
If you pick the crops too early then they'll spoil and rot.
Timing is crucial to be prepared up in a boiling pot.
Scalding water at the start but turns to molten lava
as it's getting hotter. Lose your spark then it's a cold mañana.
Stay suspended in the present. Yesterday is over with,
and if you focus on tomorrow today is overloaded with
passed opportunities and missed appreciation,
vast insecurities and static in the station.//

Crawling down the rabbit hole through the catacombs in a cataclysmic culture of apocalyptic battle drones. Always going home trying to forget purgatory where you've been and all the demons that you've met. Complacently placed and encased in a maze. Escapism hatred engrained in the face. In case it was fate to be late for the wake. Forsaken the pain so they wait by the grave.//

Drowning out the purity of clarity and patience.
Let it rattle, be ready to be a victim of invasion.
Slow the cerebellum down and take a break to breathe.
Don't even know what they're yelling about but all the people scream.
Nothing but a lapse in synaptic plasticity.
Stuffing up the aftermath drastically battling history.
Bound to repeat itself if a lesson isn't learned
and the Sound of a ringing bell in the distance isn't heard.
The sprockets cogs and minute hand don't stop for any man.
On and off the chopping block, a victim's petty plans.
Blame it on the outside influence of society
or take responsibility and try to see sobriety.
Hindsight is twenty twenty. Forgiveness isn't given.
Blindsided by the plenty muddy mighty vision.
Inside mind and body is a soul above the driven.
Decide if you envision liberation or a prison.