Quiet Obsession

I found myself in life to be a dreamer,
In reality I was nothing but an endless screamer
Tirelessly drudging along a poorly lit boulevard
With my chants and rants finding a business to strike hard.

At times my mind was trapped in the unknown,
Trying my best, like the rest to act grown.

Like a child amid carefully prepared wastelands
Acquiescent cities born to fill all the unconscious demands
Just tiny towns built to fit in only one color
Though it all just costs the same damn dollar.

They just want to be a part of that overgrown herd
Knowing nothing, say the whispers to be heard,
Just subtle thoughts of what is right
And how I am supposed to act polite.

I have tried to tell the world how I hold a dream,
Yet, the individual masses try to act supreme
Always listening and looking for better iPods
To use like all the other muted gods.

They tried to search my thoughts out
To impose on me a new purpose of doubt,
A different delusion
Among their so carefully trimmed conclusions.

What do they know?
About what I have to show?
A world forgetting themselves
When trying too hard to fit onto the store shelves.
Maybe they will hear how I’ve been made weak,
So that I might know I’m unique.

Pointing myself towards a singular direction
Where I can dream with a better recollection.

But am I dreamer,
Or just another constant schemer?
Searching for something else to destroy
With another protest meant to annoy.
I am just like the rest
Trying to find out who’s the best.

Is there an easier way,
Than to keep the world for judgment day?
With more politicians telling lies of forgotten and mismatched stories
And still insisting on digging themselves out of deeper quarries.

Though these could be just my lies to tell,
About how I hope to escape the bells
To leave this world, saying “You all can go to hell”
While still trying to free another from the spell.
After getting to say "Farewell",
This is my story I now hope to retell.