You see, the fault is yours. You are the reasons we ignore the truth as if it is not also pieces of who we all might be. You require us to act like perfections are institutions of proposed solutions when precautions and situations rhetorically baffle our past extinctions. We run not, the directions to the restrictions proposed so intuitive that the stupidity we posses ceases progression at massive proportions. The rigorous limitations we mentally accept to later on regret, retain the perceptions that we are all the same. Gripping at our graves, empty as we lay, the many we love, lost astray, and yet we still do nothing to change. We abide by the bibles we claim great, but they all say the same thing. Preach the word of insanity or maybe disparity. You claim life, I say death. You claim love, I say hate. Teach the leech who knows not what he does, isn't that the excuse?
Inspired by Lupe Fiasco's "Lamborghini Angels."