At it's core insincere,
Comes close but not to touch
An obligation to deform
And we were warned and in our own reaction,
Tied now to this push
Martyrs to no cause
Our direction not to follow
It's some sensory misperception
As it feeds in the shallows
Heavy of our tongue lay these words onto you, and it's obvious:
It's nothing but sound

We push and we pull,
And if we don't get away or we just can't get enough,
We'll burn this all to the ground