In the end, its always silence

And yet to reach there, we choose violence

There’s peace in the end, there’s peace to defend

And yet we choose agony, and fine we pretend

The air’s so busy, the people so noisy

And yet we’re alone, indifferent, and drowsy

The world moves fast, overseeing direction and loss

And yet we’re trying to find meaning in the chaos

It’s the products of our thoughts that shape our future

And yet we believe it’s tradition, religion, and literature

The controller gets controlled, and the killer gets killed

What we can see is the half-truth, otherwise, we’d be thrilled

The universe is funny, so unexplainable, and yet so skilled






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