farce and fiction

i chase my toil

hammering a nail against the grain of fact

i keep on bouncing back

misinformation is passed

look left to the right

always fight or fight

i painfully dissect

will never take as read

yet fall back to earth as the wretch

which suits them fucking fine

mister pessimism - a trait we'd all rather

mister pessimism - after this it comes so natural

reserving judgement wounds me time after time

exploitation becomes a daily grind

take a saccharine shot

not to humour these fuckers

but the scheming scum have all bases covered

which suits you fucking fine

from a catalogue of lies

there is scant protection

so you see dependability is force and fiction

which suits you fucking fine