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I'm beginning to notice my bars...
captivity was never really noticeable to me
but now, I see them iron arms from floor to ceiling
barred from access to the Gods...
follow false men draped in cloths.
This is life now...
US or them...
go against them die today
or you're labelled
out your head
strapped and snuggly to a bed
wrapped in bandage white room for days...
while they scribble on some papers about your cooky fucked up ways.
Or you're famous! Maybe TV overdosed or underpaid or needy...
or maybe baby, your top story lost his marbles killed a bunch of android zombies.
Tomcat fools and pedophiles dressed in Abercrombie
baby...this is life now.
Don't need a wife now, just Tinder touch or two, or three or four or five million likes on Instagram and a Niki Minaj Ass.
Or a million Youtube subscribers...
or a few million more Spotify fans...
Can't you see "They live" 1988 among you?
Put your glasses on so you can see what's right before you.
Consume, get married, buy, OBEY.
Go against them die today...
Or become famous on the news...
killed a million or more plus boos
of the many masses glued to the TV watching, paid endorses, spit the lies they disguised as truths.
All the stations know this too
but can't say what they want to you
without a hefty price to pay...
go against them die today.
Or be labeled...become famous!
As a traitor or a terrorist whatever your name is.
Can't you see, they live among us and look like me
or you or him or they or that.
You are their slave and that's a fact.
Forced to live your days in a prison without bars to serve an endless sentence and pay for endless sins and crimes you haven't made.
You have it made in your Porche and Escalade, making other people rich and bloody satisfy your greedy ways...
or become famous! And a nowhere man, making all kinds of nowhere plans, forced to Lennon down an Abbey Lane to a Catcher in a Rye sitting eerily on a bench mumbling to himself. “The phony must die, said the catcher in the rye...”
under MkUltra trance to hardly have remembered what occurred once come to our senses to find yourself encased in an unfamiliar smaller cage dangling by tighter puppet strings by Ghepetto's idle hands.
Pay attention ...
Lest we forget
an honourable mention to the poor suits of happiness
struggling aimlessly towards the golden carrot dangled by
The bourgeois bitch who makes you sit and stay and beg for breadcrumbs
on a piece of paper, you call pay.
"You first create thieves then punish them," in your unique Utopian way... for sins you incepted into our ways... "Our father who aren't in heaven," but inside you...
Who the fuck are you to oppress me when you're made of flesh and blood too?
I bow to no man. I'm made of Gods and shine like the stars too.
Preach only without words, touch only without hands.
Light up without lights...who?
Meditate and levitate beyond unbound by trivial obsessions, beyond material things, human emotions, like rage, stress, and depression.
And rise to unimaginable heights beyond the body and the self
and beyond the lights,
to the real heaven...
back to your inure truth
back to your infinite 9,
or lucky 7.
Don't forget the sequence, which all these shit spirals and comes in.
Open up your eye
and look towards the sky...
your true home is beyond the cosmic path that starts inside.
you connected to the nigh...
relinquish all the ego, and D-evil that's within
and embrace the light because although there in Yang it is nothing without Yin.
Follow the compass of your soul deep Tao to Dhammapada and find yourself waiting at the ends of hope (instead of rope)
Seek and ye shall find...
That your kingdom is within.