The constant edge in the sharpness of your tongue
I trivial expectation of what it means to be content
Found in the pace you set when the going gets rough
Let it be repetitive when I sing for you in my rage
My hands are shaking as they form their own fists
Objectified for the last time when I strive for respect
I am part of the dying generation of creative works
When the world has left us behind for something more cold
It's so much worse when it feels like I don't belong here
In a crowded space filled with the fake smiles around me
We gave up our souls for a financial comfort blanket
Is it so bad if I don't want to be a part of it after all?
In the end it means so much deeper that I care for you
I know you hate it when you fill those spaces with falseness
To be fake for the betterment of your stance in society
I just want to mean so much deeper that you won't have to
Fake it here, when the world is full of that enough
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