Static Skies

I feel so lost in these static skies.
Clouds of cathode rays floating above us
Raining down signals on our fragile minds.
Lightning bolts of fear and obedience strike.
No birds fly above us, no trees grow around us.
We are cities and industries and companies and products.

We radiate back with signals of our own in the storm.
Little lights in a harbor of souls.
We are stars. We are dots on a grid.
Watched and misaligned and dying out.
But still glowing bright.

At our core, we are all the same.
Lovers, fighters, star igniters.
Lonely passangers on a trip through life.
The simple things make us similar.
A universal understanding of one another.
A bond so strong it can't be cut.

We stand beneth the static skies.
Waiting for the definition to settle.
Hoping. Praying. Loving. Scheming.
Even in our lonesome, we have companions.
Sometimes it's the only fiber of life to hold on to.

You can distort beauty, but you can't kill it.
You can lie to me, but it falls on deaf ears.
We are slaves to a system of mistruths taking up every channel.
Truth can be distorted to validate falsehoods.
No vote cast, no vote represented.
Nothing for them to listen to but to keep the system spinning.

To them, we are no one.
We are not Anonymous. We are not anyone at all.
Our bodies are numbers, our ideas are copyrighted.
Our dreams are to be like them.
To worship as gods in a temple of media.
Truth is a web of lies anymore.

So tune out. Tune in.
Set your stations to recieve.
Take the worst feelings of power and beauty and love.
Hate what you are despite your obvious perfection.
Cover yourself in an ugly suit and shut the fuck up.