Dance And Laugh And Play. Ignore The Message We Convey. It Seems We're Only Here To Entertain. A Rebellion Cut-to-fit. Well I Refuse To Be The Soundtrack To It. While We Entertain We're Still Knee-deep In Shit. There's Something Wrong Inside. We've Played It Safe, Enjoyed The Ride. You Won't Like This But I Have Something To Confide. We Strive For Something More Than A Faded Sticker On A Skateboard. Now We've Rained On Your Parade And We're Out The Door. And I Don't Even Care Any Fucking More. Witness This Pair In Accomplice. Witness A Pair; Lethargic, Unconscious. No Brows Furrowed In Question, Complacent, Completing Their Tasks (no Questions Asked). Consider This Critic A Cretin. Just Resting On Laurels (completely Invented). Word Acrobatics Performed With Both Harness And Net. I Am So Full Of Shit. But I Will Remain Until This Self-awareness Fades. Until I Defeat The The Purpose Served By This Soapbox That You Made. That You Made.