Regimented

Like Catharsis without a release.

Like goodbye without a disappearance.

Don't you hear the trumpets,

calling to the french horns,

they speak of glory, but I know.

All they want is hate.

Can't you hear them?

Speaking about our lives,

like they have no more meaning,

then gears in a clock,

like fish in a sea.

And you want to know what is scarier?

They make you,

want it.

Like Christmas without the hope.

Like Midnight without the night.

The timpani speaks like thunder,

and shakes us to the core.

But he has no articulation,

just power.

Truth, that hurts the head.

Do you hear the march?

The heaviest feet are falling,

and they fall on you.

They fall for you.

But amidst the falling,

of people, of regimes.

Something is standing,

and it could be you.

Like Drowning without a sea.

Like Crying without the pain.

Every mumbled voice,

still ringing in your ears.

A thousand simple truths,

a thousand unenlightened,

everythings.

Why would anyone bother,

swimming upstream,

when ten thousand people,

are floating down?

Apathy is a way of life,

and if you stand in the way,

the way will eat you up.

Like an Orchestra without a sound.

Like Death without the lose.

In essence,

the message was,

"Listen to Power,

Accept the Boot,

and Like it."

Essentially,

we should rebel.

"Listen to Music,

Accept or Deny,

Whatever you Like."

Ooops, Did I just say that?

Better get back in line.

They might notice,

that someone isn't toeing the line.