Society Hates A Rotting Corpse

They try to keep us bolted down. Tied down with our own black ties. Tied up, chained to our goal post, inches from the finish line. We havent even started the race. Our laces tied together, we trip and fall into our own inground pool of dissapointment. Swimming in defeat, self-pity, and complacency. Afraid to take another step, for fear of falling. Subject to the world's accord. Why are we still alive? We should be dead. Six feet down, buried beneath all of the filth of this world, but yet somehow, above it. We keep on ripping the nails out of our hands and driving them in again. Screaming all of the while, "IT'S NOT MY FAULT!" or "ITS NOT ME!". I make me sick. I think it's high time for you to wake up. ~ Jory