.
.
.Adherence jarred, hard to find the lock and key to pick it.
Especially when all's he does it stare off when he needs to listen.
Far and away he goes, his mind stays but he doesn't acknowledge this.
He'll adjust to any tight situation as long as the collar fits.
The devil you know, the one who realigns each pattern of breath.
Always sees red, even if sometimes green pastures are left.
The masses have kept him quiet and in line with silence.
Might as well have dumped him off onto some private islands.
Time is crying, and each tear represents why we're dying.
Until we drown in it, we'll still figure out that his eyes are hiding.
Yet he's got a strive for lying, placing his image all over.
Racing the clock of life upstream in a river of boulders.
Shivering, colder with each thought I have of this man.
Built a facade of peace when really havoc's the plan.
He made us all out to be blind and deaf with no spine that's left.
Hopeless, coping everyday from loss leaving our minds a wreck.
Listen, we could all play god and have the same ambition to live.
Or we could fall apart and not fix it like we're all wishing he did.
Living as if we're all alone, choking on a chosen fate.
They say life's a broken record, I say its a broken tape.
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