The stories are always the same and the excuses even
Time does nothing but work against me. I wake alone
Nail down in contempt all that threatens with thought or
Enumerate the nameless and the unarticulated. Falsify their saintliness and
I can no longer deny or disavow that there is
There is prostitution in everything wrought under the sun. There
Let this stand as a monument to my abandonment and
These are the debit souls. Force fed notions of nation
We have come full circle, subservient to our self inflicted
The longest battle I''ll never win. A scripture versed in
Policy is only a reflection of misery. Freedom reinforce conditioning
Seeds planted by misinformation blossom into patriots and servants whose
The pigment of imagination has been woven into the fabric
The penetrating stares of judge and jury condemn emotion, dictate
The clowns are now the ringmasters backed with the arsenal
» More on Assuck