Sunday wordle on an actual Sunday

No one is free I thought
the wings of truth split
into papers
cogs in the engine
shredding that to which we bear witness
turning what we knew
into something shiny and new
to fill this emptiness
Sunday morning lie-ins
our only day in which we don’t have to strive
and I thought this, this is the price
people think they have to pay
for freedom
and so I ask
What is freedom anyway?
But some elusive dream we’re free to chase?

Fools rags

Our sanity is all the fucking fashion
gotta be the good one so they’ll listen
Don’t quite shift the status quo
and they might just leave you alone.

Our sanity is all the fashion
Must put on my best mask
mustn’t break, must learn to be a ducks back
Must be Sisyphus rolling that boulder there and back
forever and ever
musn’t fucking break.

Gotta be always fucking sane
be a good one to wipe the extremes away
because they only believe the headlines
that’s what they bring up in the head lights
when you shine them on their eyes

you try to argue your case
they twist your words
and squirm away
‘look at the headlines!’ they say

Because man bites dog is common in their eyes
they’ve seen it in black and white
they know more than you or I
it was in the fools rags
man bites dog, it happens everyday.