The Word

Paint a new exit on a concrete wall
Sedate my will with decaying words
Another left turn, a new decoy
A trap built from scraps of philosophy
Another door wide shut.

Walk. Follow. Walk
Your holy routine
The sake of brainless mass
Work your way, up the ladder
You'll never make it back.

I weather every gathering storm
While worms find more and more to eat
But all they'll ever taste, is the void of sameness
You carve the thought into one flow
You stomp your past into your Word.

Build! Assemble words, into empty cages
Construct! An icon of treason. A product of mass hysteria
Product! Of mass hysteria!

Sounds sentenced to nothingess
Prayers feeding a crowing crowd.

Walk. Follow. Walk
Your holy routine
The sake of brainless mass
Work your way up the ladder
You'll never make it back.

Walk. Follow. Walk
Your holy routine
The sake of brainless mass
Work your way up the ladder
... You'll never make it
Down, down, down.