Freedom In Death
There's freedom in blankets of void
Petulant perception provides but a wash cycle
I'm driven from miles high to sink back among
Notorious ransacking nothingness
I hear the lips clapping
Smacking on ill digested words
The movement and oasis
Triggering fog mirror chase
The grand rent payment in the sky
Where life is as dull as television programming
A nauseating mess of mistaken identity
Trading for each other's improvement
When does it end by barrels of day
When thinly gripped outstretched pointlessness
Careers from the balcony of hope
And lands plummeting in apparent falseness
Copyright © Justin Debrosse | Year Posted 2013
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