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de Voices From The Fuselage

Within these walls I am confined.
Thrust over our eyes solely to blind.
Is it trespassing when we feel at home?
Amongst the truth which remains untold?

Who is the arbiter in this
Travesty you choose to dismiss?
You have people running for their lives.
The hatred you feed contrives…

Everybody and their lives

When we tread on through
Fields of green, lakes of crystal,
Motion turmoil of umber and life.

When we tread on through
Fields of green, lakes of crystal,
Motion turmoil of umber and life.

When we tread on through
Fields of green, lakes of crystal,
Motion turmoil of umber and life.

With our doubt still intact.
Curious of new discoveries which you’ve left unproven.
It keeps me up at night. A fault or flaw. I slight.
Am I the casualty of my own circumstance?

Such is life,
You’ll be soon to see.
Yet to suffer an epiphany.

Such is life,
You’ll be soon to see.
Yet to suffer an epiphany.

I see my purpose now,
To reproduce somehow.
Lobotomise myself,
Break the boy my mother spat out.
I’m not a patron saint,
Never something so quaint.
You’re not a God to man but to the robots you forsake.

I see my purpose now,
To reproduce somehow.
Lobotomise myself,
Break the boy my mother spat out.
I’m not a patron saint,
Never something so quaint.
You’re not a God to man but to the robots you forsake.

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