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The Time

The time is so short

Much like Herve Villachez

But not as severe

Maybe it is

It bites your knees too

Rockets don’t move fast enough

For the movements of the symphony

Yet we’re trapped inside the music

The notes locks us to this alleged reality

Releasing our souls to the next ethereal plane

While our bodies rot in this mortal shell



like the milk they feed us

Because it’s for baby cows

Not for baby humans

Yet we refuse to believe that it’s

Killing us

And making us weak and fat

We capitalists are executing our purpose

Not dying steadily and constantly

An unnatural death of consumerism

Fueled by the light from the box that tells

The truth resting comfortably in the lies

It has grown to love

And we fight time

As if it’s our enemy

Instead of our teacher

Full of infinite wisdom

We’ve been told time and time again

From Charlamayne to Baldwin how it goes

And we as infinitely arrogant beings

Refuse to believe it

But whether we do or not

Time doesn’t care

And the lines around our smiles

Become our passport to our own destruction

While leading us to the ways of the past

Time laughs

At our arrogance and trepidation

And our race is lost

For by the time we understand the truth

We’re too old to do anything about it.

Ahh, sweet youth.

We certainly do shake it fast.


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