We are our own wicked gods
With little g's and big dicks
Sadistic and constantly inflicting a slow demise
"nothing is real but the medication, when that works they cut their wrists and write "I love you god" all over the walls then hang themselves in the air ducts."
We were the world but we've got no future.
Your passing will leave scant trace in history, wiped from memory like a forgotten dream, like sand slipping through fingers.