They seed the skies, In front of our eyes.
They think we're blind, still cloaked in disguise.
It's the signs of the times,One blink, were blind,
As the clouds seep,deep down into our minds.
Now the sky's are hazed, Still no ones amazed,
Engraved like slaves, lies make the game,
Slowly crushed in an age full of torture and pain
as humanities lowered deep down into our grave.
These Incremental days Limit our ways.
System ensures the same old days are sold as sane,
Clouds cry acid rain, while children play a game,
Said to be from a world when we were not all insane.
Wazzalcious
