A weakness in human kind has always been the necessity
To support the desire of concealing the obvious
The fact that we must promote the idea that things can get better
When they are down
That the pain, however piercing
Will one day fade from our hearts
The possible reason is that we are all stuck on forms of idealism
The probable answer, however, is that no one wants to believe
The pain may very well become the thing that destroys us
So our weaknesses are in our avoidance of the real
Allowing each night to drag on
While the day speeds up with minor habitual inconveniences
Eventually, we each become our own *destroyers*
It's the wave of nausea, the pang in our guts
...Thoughts of age, and deterioration...
Accepting reality is too expensive these days
Even for the most fortunate
Likewise with words, lies have been made cheap
Who needs the truth when you can afford to lie...
Note: I love the naivety in this relic. Forgive its bad format.