10. You - Turn

I want to cry for the hungry locus
Oh! No, its a bogus.
Poverty invented by a machine
Elite - all the major, all the fithy
Follow their regard;
Brush their shoes for them;
Don't show them all your scars,
They are lame beyond excuse!

I want to mock the dumb anthem
Don't try to ask for ransom.
Because its buried in your grave;
No place for your inside to
retrieve all the lost hopes of conspiracy.
Please spit on their orgasm -
Don't show them all your fears,
They are shunned beyond abuse

I see this as a circus
You see this as a game
They live it as a fantasy
But everything is the same.

I want to see you smile
Their downfall is my view
They curse and pray for gestures
But then they become YOU!

Vismaya Mass - 28.10.2003