Dead End

Self deception more than replaces natural selection
As the tool for our evolution into this compost heap
The very tools we own end up owning us in defection
Afterall Its what we've sown... but have yet to reap

The spirit thats fit to
no longer cares to survive
And leaves the flesh...
with hardly a fleeting regret

Unsung songs just keep on piling up
while unborn dreams are dying on me
Unwanted I become when I'm too many
The Undead ain't living as I've come to be

Its just the wave crusts in this lethal ocean
as the razor edged peaks of change in motion
Only able to breathe when I'm floating free
but still determined on swimming ashore

Time to pray a fond farewell
to inner peace... my friend