bleeding in the blur

you're fighting over crumbs and starving in the shit

burning in the garden as they watch over it

put you out to pasture while you're chomping at the bit

the line between art and pain no longer exists

you're bleeding in the blur

you're dying in a ditch

paint the picture how you want

it's yours to make fit

i'm basking in the black on black

while you're grinding in the gray

a factory of cowards. an army of inane. faith in numbers on the paper

the view will never change

constructed just to fill the void

you oil the machine. you're bleeding in the blur