Living in a world of disregard.
Piling up the pieces on the junkyard.
Fields of rotten dried up sadness.
Money’s the only funnel of madness.
The acid of the modern farmer.
Why care about it getting even warmer.
We can’t be all that saint.
Covering all the wounds with finger paint.
But you can’t see the shadow under rainbow trees.
Aren’t we all having a social disease?
Painting flowers on the ground.
Playing innocent until rebound.
Drowning in drought of responsibility.
Clothed in suits of humility.
Out of misery and uncertainty
we’re fighting against our own reality.
Sweet as honey, smooth as soap
capsizing into the cape of good hope.
Are you hearing the lovely symphony
of people lacking dignity?
But wounds can’t heal with bane
only causing bloody rain.
Soaking it up like red wine
the world’s showing a sign.
Flowers grow and pine away.
Bee’s are welcoming doomsday.
Sweetness turns into bitterness.
Oh – this world’s a dirty mess.