Kill the Messenger:
Give me some piece of mind so I can shake it up.
I’ll take some extra time, only to generate the rust.
So let’s cuff our wrists, toss the key, and believe in molded dreams and destiny.
I am a hollow shell ready to soak it up. We’re talking media, we’re talking tradition and done.
So let’s stir the pot, keep it hot, and feed the souls of new impressionists to grow old.
We’ve been ready to rise, ready to rot like the walking dead.
We’ve been ready to stop, ready to go on command.
Living by the words laid down before our lives even began.
Can’t we let a new chapter unfold? I’ll be the pen, you be the hand.
Write the end.
Give me a pot of gold so I can melt it down.
We’ll put it in a glass and you can tell me what comes out.
Because my head is full, material possessions are invaluable without choice.
Kill the messenger for trying to play God. Break the barriers using the voice you’ve got.
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