Death Of A Material Man.
Where are all the dreamers gone?
Were they really torn apart?
By the harsh realities that stoned,
From all corners of life.
Deep into the mocking alleys walked,
When the loser to the darker side of life moved,
Graffiti from the walls laughed,
Completed was the mockery of living this shady life.
Oh’ how wonderful it all looked,
The smiling faces and colorful eyes,
Truth in those eyes filled and every mind were hooked,
Oh’ how much the world learned to fake emotions and passions.
Anger in frustration boiled from the mind,
With rolled fists he walked through filth and dark,
Nothing can stop him in his passionless offense that binds,
His heart to shadows that never had any real figures.
That which in real never existed,
Only in the rolls of smoke born,
And in the intoxication he found those shadows dance,
And every moment more and more life torn.
Hated he the light to his path came,
Never looked at any eyes as emotions he divorced,
A player of screaming illusions he became,
As into the darkest paths of life he himself forced.
With imaginary pride he held his head high,
Even when wine, women and drugs failed,
To satisfy his want for more pleasure, he cried,
No tears, no emotions he felt as the murder of emotions he hailed.
Then one night another like him into his heart fired,
For his own pleasure of blood and death,
No screams, no tears, no pain, as silence filled the air,
But when closing his eyes one last time accepting death,
From far far away he saw a light conquering his soul,
Which he never thought ever existed.
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