"Charity Stripes"
To tell the truth
I would have to lie to fantasy.
There are few correlations
between fallacy and reality.
Fantasy the lead supplier
for liars and protectors.
Projectors disclose the chosen
after the full picture is broken;
strategically separated into fragments
one would presume the rest could palate.
The common source of habit and repetition
where we must decide on a vision
among options that should be more than this.
This cannot be all that exists.
Persistence is relative in ownership.
Create the right to keep away.
Believe the right to speak and say
with no true knowledge of ramification.
Treat propaganda like incantation
and the flock will lead the herd.
Trained to forget what you heard
if there is meaning to the words.
To tell the truth
I would live within the cross hairs.
Prepared for the despair
that comes with trying to repair
the impaired among me.
Those before me hung high
for our right to cry
when venting usual frustrations
over a consistent state of affairs
where we only really care
to reciprocate long winded conviction
amid the chance for contrition.
Affliction akin to patients
sealed and padded without patience
breaking teeth on their restraints
just to create some new complaints.
Heaven forbid the jagged edge.
They would score their skin deep.
God forbid the crumbling ledge.
They've been known to take the leap.
Pledge Allegiance To Manipulative Defiance.
This Is Science.
Profit from pink ribbons
and forget about breast cancer.
Give out tee shirts at the walk.
Endear them all to the enchanter.
Tell us we have advanced.
Ask us to take a chance.
Your noxious influence systemic
but there is no cure in your clinic.
In those vials a million trials.
Only some results disclosed.
Wouldn't dare think to expose
what likely exists in droves
Much Like Those Left To Die In Africa.
The vernacular imposed has grown stale.
So frail you seem in appearance
when suggesting clearance after discovery.
You have yet to discover me.
I number in the millions
and stand before you in need of healing
but you would rather pad my feelings.
Well,
I feel like there is more.
Don't complain about the chore
when I ask what is in store.
So much more of my currency
but no breakthrough currently.
Just lots of "Steady Progression."
My anger you perceive as aimless obsession
when I refuse to employ concession.
I feel like being cured.
Your progression just hurts me.
My daughter was raped.
Where Is Her Cure For Herpes?
I feel so impure.
Your digression is disturbing.
My homeland is dying.
Does The Vaccine Exist? What Profit Are You Earning?
What are you learning?
Questions are still burning
in this churning gut of mine.
My Mother Is Running Out Of Time.
These donations feel like fines.
Research labor undefined
and I'm out here running miles
just for you to run some trials?
To tell the truth,
you must reclaim this fallacy I see
and destroy the imposed fantasy to be
But I'm Sure You Won't Take That From Me.
Written By: Devin Joseph Metz
To tell the truth
I would have to lie to fantasy.
There are few correlations
between fallacy and reality.
Fantasy the lead supplier
for liars and protectors.
Projectors disclose the chosen
after the full picture is broken;
strategically separated into fragments
one would presume the rest could palate.
The common source of habit and repetition
where we must decide on a vision
among options that should be more than this.
This cannot be all that exists.
Persistence is relative in ownership.
Create the right to keep away.
Believe the right to speak and say
with no true knowledge of ramification.
Treat propaganda like incantation
and the flock will lead the herd.
Trained to forget what you heard
if there is meaning to the words.
To tell the truth
I would live within the cross hairs.
Prepared for the despair
that comes with trying to repair
the impaired among me.
Those before me hung high
for our right to cry
when venting usual frustrations
over a consistent state of affairs
where we only really care
to reciprocate long winded conviction
amid the chance for contrition.
Affliction akin to patients
sealed and padded without patience
breaking teeth on their restraints
just to create some new complaints.
Heaven forbid the jagged edge.
They would score their skin deep.
God forbid the crumbling ledge.
They've been known to take the leap.
Pledge Allegiance To Manipulative Defiance.
This Is Science.
Profit from pink ribbons
and forget about breast cancer.
Give out tee shirts at the walk.
Endear them all to the enchanter.
Tell us we have advanced.
Ask us to take a chance.
Your noxious influence systemic
but there is no cure in your clinic.
In those vials a million trials.
Only some results disclosed.
Wouldn't dare think to expose
what likely exists in droves
Much Like Those Left To Die In Africa.
The vernacular imposed has grown stale.
So frail you seem in appearance
when suggesting clearance after discovery.
You have yet to discover me.
I number in the millions
and stand before you in need of healing
but you would rather pad my feelings.
Well,
I feel like there is more.
Don't complain about the chore
when I ask what is in store.
So much more of my currency
but no breakthrough currently.
Just lots of "Steady Progression."
My anger you perceive as aimless obsession
when I refuse to employ concession.
I feel like being cured.
Your progression just hurts me.
My daughter was raped.
Where Is Her Cure For Herpes?
I feel so impure.
Your digression is disturbing.
My homeland is dying.
Does The Vaccine Exist? What Profit Are You Earning?
What are you learning?
Questions are still burning
in this churning gut of mine.
My Mother Is Running Out Of Time.
These donations feel like fines.
Research labor undefined
and I'm out here running miles
just for you to run some trials?
To tell the truth,
you must reclaim this fallacy I see
and destroy the imposed fantasy to be
But I'm Sure You Won't Take That From Me.
Written By: Devin Joseph Metz
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