Mad Professional – iv

I assassinate his character with words I swore I’d utter every thought that comes no pause eyes flutter wide shut I fought for more than my fair share of glorious war to floor the cause and bear the brunt of sword against guts guns do no justice to cowards who flee crime scenes for dreams unseen obscenity draw quick before anyone sees you leave the scene where memes are built pictures speak endlessly while words with limits speak with efficient design of machines built to think or learn from patterned dreams lucid dreaming of lucy in the sky with diamonds bought from blood sweat and currency money speaks where all else fails words still exchange glances to remain sane for the rest of the day one more day she says one more day just give me one more day and I’ll pay I’ll slave away till I can pay back every penny this century I’ll leave something behind your memory I’ll pave the way for all other slaves to never have to work again so I’ll drain every ounce of sweat and blood pouring upon stone and sand till I make reality out of nothing writing my name indelibly in sand as the sands of time try and again to wash me away upon beaches of stormy shores never to be remembered for more than a day I’ll slave away till all are free and my family tree bears no resemblance of me leaves falling in the wind blown back and forth like ships on stormy seas of desert sands unpleasant reality descendants who know not the price of life they lead squandered in hedonistic nonsensities the pleasures of their identities held up to be scrutinized by all who utilize deluded thoughts think they live better than the man with no life who magically lives seen on screens at work living like he has all the fun in the world putting on a show for the us to dance and smile to we are better than you we scream so here’s some money given to the beggar as he laughs all the way to the bank in his stupidity feigned or planned with deep intent in a group of think tank smart intellectual lab rats running in a wheel too fast to see their plight studied by an unseen lab coat figure writing down every moving variable introduced into the environment to gauge the behavior of the midas touch gold finger james bond action hero with no villain bored sitting around at work twiddling thumbs daydreaming of bloodsport to save the world from evil where only good resides but who’s to play the part of heroes and villains in stylish alternating cycles varying weather patterns constantly in flux never staying stationary push clouds past our eyes enough to pique our interest so we flip not unto the next story with more motion picture glory than the previous years combined in time all ideas fail that have no merit and only the strong survive or is it the smart who lie about what it takes to survive the strife we endured in past lives lived to be told in fictional mythological symbolic representations of the fact that we are man or animals set apart by the higher powers that seem to exist in hierarchical structures we forgot how to build

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