Humans

Wash away the sins of last night

The Doctor

I’ll make you well, good health I sell

The Game

Underpaid, overworked –
Demand a raise, watch them smirk;

We are all Gods

We are gods of the world we accept

Drown

Asphyxiation by avarice,
Lost in a sea of plastic bliss.

Puppet

Rip at my cords and claim my fame
As they tug at my will to resist.

Hermit

There’s a doorway where I lay;
What lies beyond, I cannot say

Rant #1 – The World is Fucked

It’s all just one big con isn’t it? Work for scraps, to buy food that poisons you, to run a car giving you cancer, never able to truly save up for that rainy day that we’ll never see once the mushroom clouds have burned out our retinas

Private Hell

Your white picket fence
And the job it depends
Fill your life with but ash

Inc.

March on, drone!
Work you dead to the bone.