I writhe and fall again in slow motion
and feed you the cliche life you're expecting:
picket fence, black tie, hopeless romantic, party of four.
We all reside in a box near the overpass,
some boxes just have better curtains and more windows
which marks the contrast between living and existing.
Defined by the contents of our wallets
this civilization, this abomination,
conceals animosity between clean sheets-
a six hundred dollar "egyptian cotton blend."
Freedom in this new millennium is not actually defined by being free,
it's being shackled inside 'American Gothic"
encrusted in Swarovski Crystals, and name brands to keep us blind.
The English language is trapped inside five hundred thousand words
that define us, but mean nothing as we are only equal to our number
that lies between hopelessness and supremacy, or 450 and 850.
A single being's entire existence
is only as crucial as a single wool mitten in the lost and found
at a run down elementary school that lies where 'Nowhere USA' meets 'Rodeo Drive'
Human life is subjective,
and only supreme amidst whispers in polite circles
where relative thinking is an art lost to the ages.
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