I’m looking down the line,
And I see you far away from me.
The thought of you has been on my mind
Trapped in my matrix of the rhyme,

But yet sometimes it makes me want to scream
Because I know this was not part of our scheme
Millennium Bonnie and Clyde,
Through thick or thin side by side.

I guess I’m a victim of the rhyme.
Or just a victim of the times.
Where will it end?
How do I make these rules bend?

All my friends lie,
Good hearted thieves that wish they could die.
No appreciation for the arts,
Compulsives liars that are obviously distraught.

Complete with plenty chemical addictions,
They have no dreams but yet are filled with convictions.
No goals and untied ends,
Always finding rules to bend.

They say eighty percent of your life's just showing up
But let me tell you my people don’t give a fuck.
They’ve all messed up,
“Fake it ‘till you make it” is what fills their cup.

Should I wonder what goes on in their brains?
Are their souls filled with jagged pain?
I know mine is, tongues like razor blades.
We’re one of the same