By the hand.
Let me take you by the hand
and show you what’s been planned.
Lead you through the streets of life,
where there are they creating the greatest strife.
Where people suffer in mental pain,
through they who seek no more than gain.
Let me take you on a magic tour,
and show you beyond that darkened door
of mental madness and conspiracies,
Indoctrinations and therapies.
Where you meet, they, who for their own,
execute powers and have overthrown
the way of compassion and sympathy,
having no true knowledge of empathy.
For suffering is of little meaning to them,
they that thrive through mental mayhem,
As they line their pockets with greed and pride
Through the many pills that they’ve supplied.
Just look around you, feel the pain,
of the nameless ones condemned insane,
Of they searching to freely breathe,
upon god’s earth, how he must grieve.
Yet through this open and magic door
we stand amongst the sick and poor
Within a society that confesses rights,
yet still many homeless and lonely nights
How can there be such distorted truth?
Upon this land beneath god’s roof
For we are truth upon this earth
and have been from our time of birth
and they who turned our minds astray
shall surely come to rue the day
that they played God.
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The Unconventional Scribbler
Words from the Soul.
Life, is Life,
it is not.