this is from the sinkholes of the uninspired this is the result of the loss of l uster on life and my unsteady hands reach forward for something luminescent to g rasp but my begrudging feet move to carry me back to my blue collar veracity thi s is planned when we're born our lives are mapped you know the formula follow th e herd I can't feel any gratification and I don't want to feel any passion or du ress no one should have to experience the suffocation of their livelihood but we do and we build these prisons for ourselves be it children credit cards houses or whatever else we think we need we toil to support our own hells well I refuse to be part of a perpetual labor heartache
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