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Citadel of Self

from The Citadel by Heir to Madness

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Refuge in a plastic bottle, or on TV
Or in one tiny pill that soothes and sets you so free
But look here you found just what we led you to
We’re so proud, you’ve not a clue

Which you to show who, you’d like to be through
The real you is so subdued within this inner feud
To be the few and far between, who can seem
To clean their hands of this evil machine

The gears turn endlessly; just swallow your penance please
The seeds of our vanity sprout fleas of black disease
The seas wake of your stake in your face
Is laced with the last trace of our dying race

The hating, the faking, the lying, the taking
The hiding, the tithing, the fighting, denying

Pseudo concerns and phantom choices
We’re all held captive by these vacant voices
That draw you to fit, inside of this cage of chains
Where you remain to reign

Over all the lies that make your ties to all the cries inside
Besides you can’t leave the pain behind
You’ll find that all your kind is ever so blind
You and them can only pretend

To marshal the strength within to mend this coming end
Or begin to see the grin on the lips of this apocalypse
Or come to grips with this horror
Guess its snore, or war, or learn…

The feeding, the breeding, the needing is seething
The longing, the bombing, the taste for belonging


from The Citadel, released September 1, 2008
Copyright Jason L Wiscarson


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