Filthy

Sometimes these days, the hours pass by with their melancholic sound of longing. If you ever wish to be something, stretch your arms just far enough to feel their hate, their rage, their emptiness, soon to fill up your brain. Like parasites, eating your emotions and turning you into one of their zombies, if that is what you want, well go ahead and chase the white rabbit. You know you wont get very far when you don't like animals in the first place. The white rabbit does not cater for everyone you see and the hole in the ground is not big enough for your ego to fit it. It will get stuck and your bloated body will be an eyesore to everyone who is trying to escape whatever dogma you have been selling them.

The unicorns did not get extinct because there were no pure maiden left, they just didn't want to live in a world full of blah blah. Full of corporate shit, forced down everyone's throat, whether you actually pay attention to it or not. You think you are invulnerable because you pretend to be an individual, you reading this proves that you are just as bad as the rest of the world. They would sell their mom's for a cheap heart, just so they can mix with the humans down belong, dragging their chains of their 9 tot 5 jobs.

When did we start paying for the politician's iPhone? The day that we decided that we needed a government to take care of us, to tell us what to do and who to be. It is ok to be different, but we can't afford you,
be different in some other country because you are not giving us your income. Are the creative minds of these days really just the scum of the earth, or is it just to painful to see a diamond in an ocean of garbage. Maintained by the hands of those with power.

Tick-tock says the clock and we are another year older.
Aren't you supposed to be any wiser, smarter, living a life like everyone else? Just to get forcefed a load of bullshit atop of cow dung,
while the world around is falling down the steep hill of materialism.
We elevate ourselves to the level or our common gods,
puppets of those perverts with dicks up another one's ass.
I don't believe in your fairy-tales,
they are poisonous fumes,
spit out by your volcanic mouth.
You don't hear yourself talk,
too caught up with the newest way to fill your pockets,
like gold diggers and tomb raiders did in the days that
we actually believed in something.
We do not count if we do not work, work, work, work.
While all we want to figure out is who we want to be, be, be, me.

The vultures come down on us every day,
to pick us clean, to pick our brain,
empty.
That is all what left when we start to work.
Emptiness, empty, empty, empty me.
They call us the next generation,
we are just the same shit that came before,
and all we think is me, me, me, I, I, I.
Where there is money,
they dogs will be there to snatch it away.
Filthy dogs, filthy money, filthy life, filthy floor,
filthy floor, filthy floor,
filthy me,
filthy.