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
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.