A code in a book
From a cephalopod god
People roving the streets
As ravenous dogs
Devour the holiest of ours
People scour to and fro
Looking
Searching
For some kind of hero
Someone to make them feel less like a zero
They praise that which was razed
To gaze upon the new empire of fire
With nothing but empty desire
Devouring their soul
Because they wish the mighty had control
Desire for a new messiah
To quench their fire
Never realizing they’re all liars
And cheats
We are nothing
But numbers on their rolls and balance sheets
A search for identity
A land of plenty
Which has always never existed
Because you can never be happy
Unless you conquer your your own misery
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