The Storm

It is my stern belief that We should leave Every sloppy scrap of greed To the hounds, let them bleed This isn't the life I promised to lead Waging wars and scraping knees Simply so that I can please The people that won't even see me Or you In roughly 2 years from now It smells so foul The scent of conformity We're way too pretty To be in this city Filled with thugs and hipsters Weilding guns and hedge clippers In the form of verbs and nouns We're all dizzy little clowns Stomping upon the surface Hoping people don't notice That it's all a hoax All these pinches and pokes Are a guise All you guys And me Pretending to be Titanium soldiers Invincible boulders When we are just foggy mirrors Wishing we could see clearer That we have never been weaker Don't act like you're unbreakable Just because strength is fakeable Put away your voodoo doll And pull your hidden soul out to thaw Buckle your helmet and knee pads Layer on all your rags And smile in the face of the storm Be fearful to avoid the urge to conform