By Mark A. Leon

This shit is moving too fast

A rotation away from a cosmic blast 

Eruption of the heart 

An ocean of drowning souls screaming and piercing like a dart

The airwaves filled with advertising drugs 

Addictive and so raw 

Playing the fiddle for the devil 

And laughing

Head butting to metal 

This is the game we’re forced to play 

A winner no way 

Losers in a fight with no ammunition to steer away

Slow down

Slow down freezing all emotion

Hold the dice and don’t set it in motion 

Cus’ this shits got to stop this commotion 

We are on a train with no brakes and no destination

My brain is numb watching leaders crown our heroes 

Draped in dollar signs and chuckles filled with egos

A thousand

A million

A billion or two

Lay it out there

Make it clear

We are pawns told what to hear

Plant a story in our heads no time for the brain to clear

Cannot process this consumptive rage

Wait for the reaction to start the riot and release the masses from the cage

Kings and queens sip their whiskey, puff their smoke and sign a dity 

In your castles with your manipulative stare and sinful grin

Laughing your way to another successful crime

Crime of the heart

Crime of the soul

A mind fuck of a game and we are the losers left behind