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We seem to have to decide between deceit and a lie.

As if morality is such a hard word to define.

And I find as we try, we fail and we flail

in the dark, like the blind, and we don't even care.

Like a cancer, a virus, a parasite, a plague,

we feed on our host till it's dead and decayed.

And yet we don't stray, we stay staright on our course; Dead a head.

In our wake we toss them circus and bread.

Or, instead, a new enemy to fear and to dread.

The talking heads feed the beast with Exibit A, Exibit B.

With the expectincy we don't see what it all really means.

We're lost out at sea, we're torn at the seams,

on the edge of a presipise that echo our screams.

And in the cold light of day, who can truely say

they have all the answers to hold the darkness at bay?

All I know is I know I don't know a thing.

I wish we could burn it all down and start all over again.