
To all the people in silver armors, high end saddles and low end taste
I bow so deeply it cracks my bones. They’re the meanest dragons that I’ve faced.
Too faced – everyone lacks one perspective as they see all the plot holes
And all the ways to get the deal through. Chasing money like stumbling foals.
Frosty paws get stuck on unsafe paths in places where stopping is a sentence
Of life spent is rotating fields of nothing – so you better run from that fake vengeance.
But how come we trust the system after it fools us twice before the alarm starts?
Did we simply nod when they said – you’re the target, circumstance is the darts?
There are 500 ways to write yourself out of the simulation this very second –
How could it be there’s only one narrow line you decided to reckon?
Furthermore, is it pure luck we’re born starving but manage to keep it at bay each morning?
I don’t know a lot about mourning.
But I trust that every fool in shiny helmet who chases money is doomed
As great ideas seldom come to minds very well groomed.
I know a thing or two about getting my frosty paws trapped in grounds
Where you never want to be seen by larger crowds.
It’s cold out there for us who don’t believe in glitz of serving
The ultimate purpose of always earning.
How much are you learning?
-JW
