Green tide sirens scream the black signal smoke a back drop curtain fall.

And every breath brings you closer to death, every heart beat closer to the end.

But its silent and docile on the front lines, with blindfolds.

You feel nothing and only hear what your told.

Those eratification, of the jester, the demoralizing grade school lesson.

You're miraculously unique, and uniqueness doesn’t appeal to us.

We want the same color schemes, gray mattes Tuscan star dust.

The granite of the graves blends well with the others.

Its the same again and again and again.

And your anger will do nothing but feel your bowels with razors till you shit blood, and hemorage.

Your screaming, is like the blue sky pale en by the factory ping.

Just lye down, radiated dreams of your soul.