Brown soul on a hardwood floor.
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leaving errors of commitment for those who pay to see.
gathering the children for future reference.
Not even their photographs will help you now.
The young don't want to be what the old ignore.
but the old ignore because they have given up.
Their lives were different kicking sand and building highways.
Now the young walk slowly on the highway or gather dust on the hardwood floors.
Fiction after Fiction.
leaving everything for the imagination. it's ok paronoia is healthy.
Tread lightly and ever so softly,
dont awaken what youve tried so hard to put to sleep.
This Generation is subdued with false idols and heavenly fixations.
what about the next and the next.
we are asleep, who will subdue them?
Who will bandage their sences with visions of an unchangable future?
Someone, a human not a god, creates what is now.
Many, people not persons, live what is now.
Many Nations, One planet do not understand what is now.
and still I'm nothing but a brown soul on a hardwood floor.