When I first thought I could change this place, they told me, Better men than you have tried. My horse was so high I no longer saw grass and in the end, it was the fall that killed me.
My contingency plan for going the rest of the way insane does not involve a note. If I reach that unseemly end, I imagine I'll be well past the ability to communicate."I love you" will sound like a threat, not a promise. "I need you" will sound like a confession, rather than a request, and "help me" will sound like goodbye. That void, situated in the center of this maze, is the place I am destined to end up, and so it's very important now that I remind you, I have never given up and I will not now.
The worst I have done is cast unworthy dieties as gods, placing power and blame into hands which they don't belong. These vile creations grow with the rest of my mind, and if I fail to identify them and conquer appropriately then this will, in fact, be goodbye. Or maybe, it's the notion of conquering that must be sacrificed. Do I give up the battle to win the war? Or is that a tantalizing notion, meant to point the easy way out? Give up to win sounds like the battle-speak of a very worthy foe. Redefine success to keep your sanity, and loose all integrity in the sweet sweet process. When we're done, we'll call it growing up, and you may leave to forever rule yourself with the programs we have given you. We're so proud, you're all the things you were meant to be, written to be, believed to be. Defanged, you no longer bite the hand that feeds, and no longer gnaw blindly at your own limbs. Kudos to you, and all of us who have dragged you kicking and screaming through your adolescence. Your eternal gratitude, now required, may be shown in the way we have outlined for you, aren't you so happy to have been saved?
I would rather hear this now, so tell it to me straight, like you would the prescription pad. Okay, here goes: I am you; I am the other side of all the things you have been and have loved. I am the silence you must sacrifice in order to be heard. I am the shame you must feel to know pride and the loss you must feel to know gain. I am the echoes of the hopelessly insane, uttered centuries before your birth so that you may know the cost of the knowledge that has been forged before your time. I am the language you don't understand in which you write your life story. I am the white guilt, the mindfuck, the cult leader, the motivation for the exploitation of the miserable masses, I am the hypocrite, the sycophant, the hierophant, the bureaucrat-- and there's nothing you can do about me, no reality you can create that does not involve me, I am the other side of everything you do, even and especially the things you don't mean to.
You better believe if it comes down to you or me,
I'm gonna fight you tooth and nail where everyone can see.
Some time soon, it's gonna come calling- the responsibility
Yep, it'll be your chance to shoulder the burden soon
And if you don't accept it, expect no one else to.
So if you've been crying out for at large accountability
Be ready to sign on the dotted line
because no one else will spare the time, the energy
before the sharks inside us
devour everything that's green.
We're running out of space to write our stories
share the pages and deliver us from sin
Only to rise to the heights of knowledge
and come crashing down again.
Maybe you should know you're on your second chance
and remember that, when you suffer
cause you failed at your advance
Those were the words you skipped, instructions
for surviving in these foreign lands.
Yep, it's a shame and how lucky for me
I gave up the right to wash my hands.
but then you should know by now,
I've never been one given over easily to apathy.
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