The Plan

Creating a world every time
The head evaluates the ruin
Waking up, opening eyes
To sleepwalk over routines

“Powers” make up for the lack
Of possession of themselves
For some few seconds before
The implosion of greed and tales

The more “convinced” some eyes get
The more should focus around
The more doubts must dwell inside
For the good of the whole world

Each day meaning anew folly
We have to cover at night
Running away from the core
“Labour” wraps in fake disguise

Living inside minute rooms
Killing in the name of nought
The dance of the I, me, mine
It´s a death dance as we all know

Billions of stars inside
A single will to be “unique”
Eight billion still don’t know
There are more things that do exist

All the times are now or never
All “luck” drops falling like rain
All the times there will be another
Chance but on a greater “pain”

Each day means just anew folly
To ask for the cover again
The core dressing its real form
“Undressing” the “labour” “aches”