God Is in His Heaven, All Is Right With the World

1) Sedation is not meditation. That's isn't what substitutes for conversation
And who is wrong over holes burning into their heads or bloated sacks shifting in
Their stomachs?

Over feeling unloved, worn out and with nothing?

2) The decomposing human bodies moving in a vibrant language. Sending signals
In unfortunate ways, (through unstable tones.)

Just enough to kow that there is no recovery. How can I even compare? (I'm hiding
Out. Shaving my head. I'm screening calls. Covering my tracks.)

I want to form some sort of expression. I want to make some sense out of this
Without calculating the collective, I want to know everything

Sometimes I don't want to scream and sometimes I don't want to be around here
Sometimes I just want to pilot a giant robot, spending days that only exist in my head

Instead of excuses I will be looking for reasons
Finding passion in my own instead of convenience