Blind Ire Observes the Sky

There will be more of Blind Ire when I actually feel arsed to get to it.

Born by cold fate
Accepted faith
I don't trust you

Integrity thin
Plastic kind of grin
Like lookin' at you through a distorted lens


Born of fake smiles
A pyritic child
And I don't trust you

Morality tied
To ancient lines
There's no escaping you but I'm going to try


Birthed in dust
Free will covered in rust
I feel sorry for you

Chained to the floor
You never knew more
I'm not going to listen until you think for yourself


Born in catechol
Of your Father's soul
What kind of hell has He damned you to?

An upward glance
Scanning your stance
When will you begin to demand the answers to your questions?