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The Dawn of Irony
Relentless muscles strain
gotta keep on goin
Don't look back
Don't slow down
The pain of reality too much
Turn your back
Generations disjointed lost in the turmoil
of a world that doesn't know they exist
A world that acknowledges them only on Family Guy and Simpsons and "PULP CULTURE" or "POP CULTURE"
Or bull$h*t political jokes
Or when remains are at stake
Who do they turn too, where do they go
Ask your self that
The longer we run
The farther we'll get
The faster we'll meet ourselves
when we look in the waters edge or the blades
Run to the 40 oz. or hit that Mad Dog
Go mining for Crystals in them hills
and oh do they have eyes
Oblivion herders and trading souls for liquor
Lost souls flee to whatever warm safe soft blanket they can find heedless of diseases and squalor they find at the end of the day
Still Crippled
Still damaged
Still unwanted
Still unknown
After 500 plus years as neighbors
Can't lay down and die and
do them a favor
Gotta eek out some existance
Adaptation to secular beliefs and alien thoughts
Triggers a physical backlash felt throughout timespace
Flee Flee
Flee where
Flee to Jail
Flee to Mental Health
Flee to Prison
Flee to walls within ourselves
Flee to the city
Flee to the bosom of the demons
we create for ourselves
and the one's we didn't
Flee from being indigenous
Assimilate, just another face in the crowd
inside the skin of another
The best one of all is
When we fooled ourselves into thinking we didn't exist
We did our enemies work for them
The Dawn of Irony wasn't till 1492...
gotta keep on goin
Don't look back
Don't slow down
The pain of reality too much
Turn your back
Generations disjointed lost in the turmoil
of a world that doesn't know they exist
A world that acknowledges them only on Family Guy and Simpsons and "PULP CULTURE" or "POP CULTURE"
Or bull$h*t political jokes
Or when remains are at stake
Who do they turn too, where do they go
Ask your self that
The longer we run
The farther we'll get
The faster we'll meet ourselves
when we look in the waters edge or the blades
Run to the 40 oz. or hit that Mad Dog
Go mining for Crystals in them hills
and oh do they have eyes
Oblivion herders and trading souls for liquor
Lost souls flee to whatever warm safe soft blanket they can find heedless of diseases and squalor they find at the end of the day
Still Crippled
Still damaged
Still unwanted
Still unknown
After 500 plus years as neighbors
Can't lay down and die and
do them a favor
Gotta eek out some existance
Adaptation to secular beliefs and alien thoughts
Triggers a physical backlash felt throughout timespace
Flee Flee
Flee where
Flee to Jail
Flee to Mental Health
Flee to Prison
Flee to walls within ourselves
Flee to the city
Flee to the bosom of the demons
we create for ourselves
and the one's we didn't
Flee from being indigenous
Assimilate, just another face in the crowd
inside the skin of another
The best one of all is
When we fooled ourselves into thinking we didn't exist
We did our enemies work for them
The Dawn of Irony wasn't till 1492...
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