---

I'm sorry I am flawed

The plague-belt o' the masses

And all your gifts - what for

When they are entirely unworthy

Wither goest thou? What to do with you? We're swamped

How could you work?

Displaced

Missadjusted

Oh why?

What happened to you?

Right before your birth

Completely out of line

And how?

Can you survive?

Without self-castigation

Withour self-treason

Force yourself, quixotic saviour of yourself

Constraint, the urge for unknown nullities

They sleep away to themselfs

Open up your eyes

Not to weaken

From sleeping

All that you wished you are

Is still unmeant

Tell me from your needs

And say

How real is the world outside?

Stereotype of your dreams

I'm sorry I'm a blenish

In the ideal worlds arrangement

Watch out for me

Maculation

Of neoliberalism

Society values

Stereotype of your convictions

They're just a copy of an ethics

Not worth a straw

Erased

These ideals you had

Once

What have you become

Evened out your identity

Has merged in

The mass

You are lost

They sleep away to themselfs

Open up your mind

Not to weaken

From sleeping

Take a look

All these human sad and pale

Tell me what you see

Tell us what you see

It's not the world you are craving for

That's not the world you were craving for

First you hand over thinking

The dream is dead

Then liberty and self-rule

This easy life is at its best