is there a sense in what I am doing?
could there be any reason for my suffering?
sometimes I feel my acts are replicated
a nonsense, my life is intoxicated
I'm just considered a mean of production
serving a factory should be my satisfaction
they give me a freedom made of blind compulsion
trapped in a cage I only feel self-repulsion
all my senses disconnected
memories confused and lost
I live between future and past
if I could take the time to think about my thoughts
and to embrace my whole life accepting my mistakes
I should be able to understand that I'm just dislocated
and that the search shall start before it gets too late
lost in a world of ignorance and pretension
I wonder where to find again my lost attention
I'm hearing nothing but the noise that's penetrat
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