Listen to the voice of reason. Shut down. Reboot.

We are all hardware, for the gears of reality.
The drugs, the oil to keep the system running.
Another number, for the programming.
Yet the virus within the coding, within the data.
Our lives farmed, our plastic models deemed honest.

Boyfriends snapping as their girlfriends lie about that hidden boy, losing themselves to the blood between their fingers.
Or the drunks that paint their wives skin with black and purple.
How about the girls that plead for mercy as their innocence is ripped from between their legs

Force fed lies, prescribed happiness.
A snow white room, for the struggles ya know?
Red our favorite color as the demons consume us.
While we inject the snake's venom, smiling as we choke on our own vomit
The more green paper, the better the product.

Soldier's fighting the homefront inside the war of their heads when they should be overseas.
Mom's losing their minds as stress eats them alive, begging their kids will survive the starving times.
After all, there's a cold wind heading for Washington.

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