You look at me
As if I'm dumb...
The Death Of Imagination
By Mark Spencer...
Perfect.
Whoever invented the word was one cruel...
I felt so much like you
without the fame, the looks, the money...
Defined by the media
Dressed by the fake...
...and the shadow faced effigy,
opened wide its maw of death...
We met this world in disposition
Learned to walk and speak our minds...
I wonder if they're thinking about me?
Through their distorted facial expressions...
Look real close and you still cant see
All of the things you wish you could be...
You see me
on the street, in the street...
Separation
By Mark Spencer...
I'll touch the earth with my feet
But I want to taste it one more time...