The more frustrating,
These incomprehensible emotions get,
The more we engage,
A wholly circular problem.
In a cold, inhuman room:
A lonely 777.
We’re calculating:
A lonely 777…
Everyone always has a look on their face,
Like they already know!
Made into slaves of common sense,
Will they simply head toward destruction?
What’s correct,
Is always,
Drowned out,
By ambiguous voices –
A delicate sensitivity.
Justice,
Is always,
Weeded out,
By leaning toward the majority –
An invention of the weak and powerless.
In order to hide my weakness,
I form many transient personalities;
My real self is long gone –
I’ll become a bot that portrays normalcy!
Stopping my thoughts will make me happy?
Next year’s fad is trench coats?
Everyone always just looks to their right,
To see what they should do next!
And by the time they realize it,
They’re doing overtime on the battlefield!
Life,
Is always,
Pre-decided;
Domesticated,
Without any doubts.
“Happiness is a scrap of paper,”
The shepherdess said,
So we gotta line up,
That roulette 777!
The minority dances,
An irregular waltz.
The majority dances,
A variable rondo.
The minority dances,
An irregular waltz.
The majority dances,
A variable rondo.
The minority dances,
An irregular waltz.
A silent majority dances,
A variable rondo.
(Abandoning this diverging moment,
Are you really okay with only ever observing?
Make your case for what feels natural to you!)
You’ll always,
Be the one,
Who decides what’s correct,
So paint over,
Those habitual rules.
“Everyone’s really the same”,
The shepherdess said,
So we’ve gotta break free,
From those relative values!
As an outsider that’ll never be understood,
Go on to make roads were none exist!
Don’t be led astray –
You don’t have to be like everyone else!
Oh stray sheep,
Go on to change the future!
The more frustrating,
These incomprehensible emotions get,
The more we engage,
A wholly circular problem.
In a cold, inhuman room:
A lonely 777.
We’re calculating:
A lonely 777…
What’s correct,
Is always,
Weeded out,
Using an ambiguous voice –
An invention of the weak and powerless.
The minority dances,
An irregular waltz.
The majority dances,
A variable rondo.
You’ll always,
Be the one,
Who decides what’s correct,
So paint over,
Those habitual rules.
The shepherdess said,
“Everyone’s really the same”,
So we’ve gotta break free,
From those relative values!