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This one's for the disenchanted,
this one's for the dead-end starts.
this one's for the future rejects;
the empty souls with the violent hearts.

All we ask is purpose,
a reason to exist.
The smallest blip on the radar of existence.
but we're in the midst of feeling lost and lonely,
as it all crashes down.
The breeders walk the path but all the rest seem nowhere bound.

As isolation closes in the anger reappears.
For ecery passing breath brings close the boiling point,
the fear of:

Nothing,
Eternally.
Flailing at the dark.

Envy and exclusion,
incentivised.
Fake our story one more time.

Just just one more life,
just one more lie,
fake the truth;
the ties that bind.

So is it too much?
Or is it unclear?
The basis of our progress is control over our fear.
our fear of:

Nothing,
Eternally.
Flailing at the dark.

This one's for the disenchanted,
this one's for the dead-end starts.
this one's for the future rejects;
the empty souls with the violent hearts.

For all those left behind by a world that doesn't give a shit about us,
who we are and what we want,
remember:

There's more to life than this.

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