The Substitute -

Lost track of every purpose, lost track of space and time

No need to ask the reasons, no urge to define

The poisoned words of the insane ones

The pathetic ways to reverse the guns

Pointed at the core of what we used to call eternity

We crave the next device to ease the despair

We want to dread, to feel the thrill of being scared

The screws won’t turn unless you buy

A safe place on the production line

Relax and eat the substitute of immortality

Make me feel insecure

With something I’ve never had before

Feed me a hundred times, show me a thousand ways,

To overcome the hollowness it gains

Lost track of purpose, lost track of time

no need to ask, no urge to define

You’ve fed me a 100 times,

Now I show you a 1000 ways to fall