Drawn into a world, that paints each day by numbers; hand picked by the fools that govern everything we see. And there’s no care for the colours or the canvas on which we will rest, just an absence of true beauty they’d never think to seek. We let the rats stroll over what could so easily be a finely executed masterpiece, but was it ever picture perfect to start? A tainted image of disparity; a nation’s strain with no clarity.
Bullied by thugs of fame in a market thriving on vanity, slowly poisoning our minds with all they choose to advertise. Broadcast after broadcast, it’s streamed into our lives, but through all we're forced to see we won’t open our eyes. When will we wake up? When will the channels change? Fame starved with no shame – will we just stand by whilst they ignite rage? Slaves to the airwaves.
Blind eyes turned to what is right whilst they sit and blossom under the spotlight; morals moulded from all you see and the shit you read is everything you believe. Far from a gift that keeps on giving or just a fire that you keep fuelling. Our castles are becoming prisons, our shelters soon to be slums.