Humans

I wrote this in Copenhagen and I'm not sure where the ideas came from but I'm pretty pleased with it so here it goes...

The geometry's not sacred but the beauty's far from wasted on me, ascension from existence so basic to a place we're almost faceless, far from free, we worship things that chain us, and sustain ourselves with facebook and tweets, we live a lie and spare no time for strangers passing in the streets, and this divide; the hole inside, we fill while naked under sheets, this false connection, subtle tension, isn't how we're meant to be, just bastardise; behind the eyes I see you know that you're not free, and it's no stretch to say we know that we can never find the key, in spite of evidence, the sights and scents and feelings, we dispense a comfy narrative while the answers lie in peeling back delusion, wounds so sensitive we stagger on in darkness, seek seclusion, while we whinge about the source of our exclusion from the mainstream, we cry out but in this endless void nobody hears you f*****g scream.