Real eyes don't realize the real lies, deep inside. 

No deep thoughts, we're think-naughts, robots

Programmed to conform. 

No form, forlorn, uninformed, 

Of problems in - this world, keeps turning

Round and round

Without sound, see us now,

We're going down 

To the ground 

Crash collision.

 

Rotating planet in the abyss of space

This place, unsaved

But for God's saving Grace. 

You scoff, "of course not,":

Won't even give it a thought: 

"Back away from me, 

I hold the key to my own destiny."

 

Can't believe what you won't perceive

All the while listening without critically thinking. 

Your mind's like smog,

Windshield eyes can't wipe the fumes off.

Cool off, rose colored glasses

Don't really pay off.

 

End of draft. Revisions to follow.