We anchor ourselves to illusions
Desperately hanging on to ideals
A battle between lofty dreams
And the abyss we’re forced to stare into
If we just breathe
And stop beating these primal urges
down into our anguish
maybe we’d be spared
The bloodbath
Awaiting us on the other side
of this Armageddon
If we could look upon the dirt
we try to abandon
With admiration
Maybe we could be held afloat
Instead of drowning
And
we could deaden this angst
That disables us
illusions
Illusions
Precious illusions
are the essence
of every good religion
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Sleep
Arches & doorways
New dawns & new eras
Closing in
On sleeping victims
We seek comfort
In our illusion of control
Like a sling around broken bones
We sleep under duvets
Protecting from the shocks
Of the sickness
That shatters our dreams
Chorusing our sleep
Mass delusions.
Oh, save my soul
From supposed blessed hymns
So full of much delusion
I can’t bear this omnipresent illusion
It’s all so full of shit
Everyone looks delirious
In this oppressive house of ‘sin.’
Where they rejoice in a ‘saviour.’
Not fit to be a king
