Little In Discretion

I've got to get out of this place
It's the pace
I can't take it

These dolls on the walls all play fake.
And they take,
But find nothing.

The fear on the street like the snow.
We don't know,
And we hate it.

Forever we know of their lies.
That they die,
With the silent.

The walls are all covered in mud.
And in blood.
But it's raining.

And hope in these city blocks lie.
But do try,
Not to trust it.

In these streets the devil has run.
And he's done,
With illusions.

Our fate is hermetically sealed.
Our skin peeled,
For the harvest.

And man ends up back on it's knees.
And we plead,
We can't take it.

For in comfort do greed seekers find,
That in time,
Man is loveless.