Pawn and the Ant
Our shells deform in some odd way…
Our soul and mind are moldered clay…
They twist it and turn it and do what they can,
We slide through their fingers like you would with sand.
We’re corrupted movies; scene to scene
Life makes me ask, is this a nightmare or is this a dream?
They hack our thoughts, our body and soul,
I remember the past; buried along with what they have stole.
We’re the ants and they’re the queen….
Their orders are something we can’t believe.
They command and we obey,
Their orders are here and here to stay.
The snow would drop and it would melt,
Our hearts are nothing but yet to smelt.
Our minds are slaves,
Our souls are pawns…
We seem to think that this is all right,
That our souls and heart are not yet worth to fight…
We’re either the ant or the queen,
And we change by what we have seen.
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