It go left right, left right,
They march in jack boots, through the night,
The army fatiques served to keep the character hidden,
Just another clone on a repetitive mission,
Only seeing in two dimensional vision,
The need to feed seemed to make them visibly wizened,
The prison of living in mindless mind states,
Growing fat on provisions of pop culture mandates,
How can a man make a fan base,
If the fans race, in one direction?
The selection is cranked, raised,
Elevated like neon signs,
We are not mere peon, praising these shrines,
We are many designs, many different kinds,
Constantly colouring outside of the lines,
Everybody snap out of it, hypnotized,
Cos conformity normally wears a disguise, unmask it
If you’re tired of the same old routine,
I know a place we can go to uncover the dream,
Its not in the lines its in the space in between,
Cos what’s said is only ten percent of the theme
Identify who is the enemy, it’s the end of me,
Beginning a new thing, there’s no identity,
Crisis, life aint a time for lifeless,
Routines, lets see through these things that vice us,
Individual, visual sight is,
Incredible, let it fill our minds and then define us,
Rhyming timeless, inside of their blinders,
They want it uniform to confine us,
So form forms beyond solid dimension,
Clench these fists, with this overwhelming tension,
Stretched tight like elastic, the apprehension,
Of being in between two forces directing,
Leads to an inevitable question,
The choice before snaps of invention,
The thrill of hope or the sting of rejection,
The love of things or the quest for perfection
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