I sit strapped in
Waiting for someone to fasten in my passion
Next to me
Worried someone else might take the action
Toward compassion
f*ck this faction
Fact is my fashion causes wide distraction
The mass harasses, while I'm sitting accepting passes
Spark up the magic that I bask in
Watch my life leap from the rations in dances
Man are we laughing
Put the past in a casket, along with ashes on the sweatshirt that tends to be catching
The blackness that comes crashing down
Into ashen arms that are fascist
See my glasses shatter when they don't understand this egotistical canvas