These Times

28 Feb 2011
These Times
This is the vision of android consent! Manufactured Reality,the smoke and mirrors, your fears your worries, just outside the birds sing, in a geometric dream.
Coming back, going to, breaking up, what is it we're breaking through?Flashing blue lights. quick response, appear in numbers, babylon horizon.The Law marching into conversations, watching for submissions, dividing. In the last stand enough hatred bred in each human to equip an army, to create the final divisions. The iron that is swung nameing, taging, maiming.Stealing a nation, What! Freedom next time? Purging reason, the android consent! they give us beer, full strength, no chant! no more! one said to the other,"we have in the order of a quarter", gloating he gave the last order! pulsating blue lights, became a sea of sludge, of sound in force! The reason was not disclosed.
Divide, Divide! Detain! just fucking do as you are ordered! said the one who was the leaver.
In a privy council, passed across a table, the final division! said the bold font, the dark front "Agreed" her highness squaked!
Tonight's programme's loaded, the blue light flashing, we was told to stay in, and the final days was given.
The world called in communication in drops of dew was a solution! to see the universe talking.
We all know the score a good deal. Is what we feel different than what we know? What they want is what we're sold.
Kettled into feeding stations, into farms, my life for survival, mineing people's minds. My heart is moving, one time it's going to stop working.
Without any warning the Earth sang in geometric, beyond reason we can see ourselves as the same.
The horizon was a blue screen, flashing blue, pulsing, every last one descending in force! truncheon's raised, blood stained, on horses.
No legal aid given! Unemployed in detention! Business's renting education, and then subletting freedom.
Marriages only for prince's and princess's the followers in the after feed reception.
The missionaries prepare, Bishops! Clerks! are briefed on gatherings and distribution! Oh! Oh! I understand said the Station Manager the Fat Controller, processing numbers in cages with locked doors.
Am I my keys, and the floor, and walls, and everything I own, my thoughts are yours.
In the ever flow in droplet pearls, in a complete dream the Earth calls, centuries of control will begin to fall, out of free parties, adventures, free spirits will come rebels.
In dew drops we saw for ourselves, death was a lie, so I died three times.
All my possession's I own thrown, with my image gone, there was no secrets in universal love.