There's a checkbox left in the corner
of a life kept in narrow confines.
There's a marker waiting for choices,
while indifference and joy get combined.

There's a million minds tied-up by routine,
Waiting for something to sample attraction.
That's the selfish conformist potentially in action.
Like the self-centered torment inside.

There's a carefully hidden connection,
like a heartbeat inside my mobile.
I keep feeding the global transactions
and my righteousness straight underlined.

Is there anyone to face the facts?
We're waiting for positive changes to happen.
Reaction remote controlled by unseen faction.
Fake. Sbstraction. Stronghold of our civilization.

Do we disclaim existence of network relations?
Do we disclaim we're under control?

There's a checkbox left on the backside,
that's for breaking the narrow confines.
As there's someone to profit from complacency
There's no reason to get back in line.

Is there anyone, at anytime, to claim any form of comprehension?
Anyway, the destiny's defined.
Reaction remote controlled by unseen faction.
Fake. Abstraction. Stronghold of society.
We lie to ourselves to prove our imperfection.
Lies we held up high for satisfaction's sake.

There's blooddrops left as i refuel.
There's death around your neck pretending to shine.
There's tears inside my chocolate bar but i keep chewing.
And wear sweatshop shoes so self-satisfied,
so how deny i'm guilty?