Oh, zombified youth!
Our life, our love, our being.
The steps and stages of standards,
Set by faceless overseers.
In truth, beauty has never been in the true eyes of the beholder.
The invisible forms replace all eyes with that of their own.
This land of fashionable sorrow!
Plastic surgery is beauty where love is age.
All the true and wonderful held down by robotic hearts and gauged affection.
Only the dronish live oblivious to the orderly chaos;
This horror of hearts tied down by rules and regulations.
The lemmings are to blame!
Blindly following as wisping façade holds their hands.
There is a hollow sanctuary in their naivety.
Poor damned flock!
Never to taste the freedom of individuality,
Slowing, eking any glint of identity.
Darkening, fading, drifting,
In a sea, a whirlpool of broadcasted thoughts and dreams.
To then become their very maker.
To be the transparent souls of brainwashed lives.
A revolution is in store!
Let the pure of heart and mind break forth in triumph.
Together they can: