Automatons of the rule book

Notice them

Notice how birds fly high 

Few every second as though trying to warn us but our busybodies are taught to be practical and emotionless brushing off beauties such as the skies and pleasures in doing nothing or something different 

Notice how the birds fly high 

Few every second 

As though

What I want to take it as is infact,

A warning 

Probably from other dimensions that reappear to us only in lost dreams, deja vu 

Notice them

Notice how we walk under them

Under those species 

Making everything complicated 

So so complicated and corrupted 

You expect us to continue being practical yet send us to places where people turn out without their imagination and freedom

We try to voice out

Music as our escape of two minutes 

But get brushed off 

Notice them

Notice how the birds flee and fly from something we’ll never ever find out because we’re all busy doing what we’re told caged between these infinite skies

Notice us,

Notice how we follow the rules and talk shit behind the covers they’re enclosed in

Notice how we’re all trying to do something by doing absolutely fucking nothing. 

Notice the birds

Notice how we kill them

Notice how we’re automatons of the rule book,

The Meticulous Button. 


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