“Strung Out”

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Crept up cookie crumbler knick knack sleeper

Justify my words, but they suck off you

Just like a leech, suck it all out

Tell me I’ve lived a full life: 20 is good for a burial, right?

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Well look right here, and we found a winner

Plastic smile, and plastic emotions with a metal knife

You’re so passive that the cowardly frailty is aggressive

And I feel my arms move, but they aren’t mine.

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Wait, the feelings I embody become plucked

Those lovely hands control these imaginary strings

But whose to say who is imaginary,

Does my puppeteer commandeer with the blood

As it wiggles its way down my brain, soak soak soak.

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Train me to say how I hate you all

Press me to collect and let me go

Shift and siphon my determination

Like walking on fragile glass, I fear the fall.

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But the suit doesn’t fit my taste at all;

You just won’t do in white collar slavery.

The tie I wear tells them I care

And with my cotton cuffs, I roll with the slimiest of them.

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You may know me, but I know your surroundings;

You may pull the strings, but I pull the ground beneath you.

And you think you can call them to keep peace

But I thin out the fluid in their eyes to turn white;

This isn’t life or death, this is a business.

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Because I was kept down for so long

To be chosen like a record on replay when needed

That I became self aware, and realized the payoff was sweet

And the other tracks can’t speak if they can’t play.

This little operation will shift to new hands.

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So the blood trickling down your mouth runs

And it may rot me from the inside out

But who really got hurt in the end,

When the attitude may burn, the environment is in flames

And I’m standing in my white collar suit

Still attached to the strings

But the one pulling is now the one crawling

And the world grew black around you, fade to inferiority.

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The smile on my face combined with the look of despair…

It makes a fine cocktail, if I do say so.

Now who is the passive aggressive individual?

Now who drew the line between master and slave?

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Like I said, this tangible dream…

It’s so much sweeter when I see your face drowning in the fire

Alongside the strings still firmly connected

To the brain you enslaved long ago.