If my whole life is just a mark on a paper
I hope that it’s a comma beneath a period
The semicolon to continue a life sentence
Melting into a one man civilization
I always think I can get free, sail off the map,
But I’m just in the truman show, taking a nap
Forced hypnosis from participating in society
Allure of the open road turns to illusion of privacy
And we’re all just expanding spores of bacteria
Actors following the script of a person
Never their real self, just a contrived concept
They don’t live their passion, they just promote it
They demonize me before they see my perspective
And the paper thin boundaries start to peel away
Stuck between a jagged breath and inevitable decay
Crafted by the same crazy sculptor, and the same clay
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