Conditioned inside and out to the point of no return
To what we may have been without all this shit we were born into:
Poverty, depression, power and despair
Conditioned inside and out to the point of no return
By a world not crafted by hands of our own
Yet still we march in step to the cadence of it's irregular beat
The damage has been done - irreparable and all-encompassing
Nature is as archaic word that could never explain this mess
Worlds become obsolete like ideas
And they won't have to burn the books
When no one reads them anyway