Gut level, below it all.
Out of duty - just here.
Feeling like a knife's being twisted
In the hole of how it is
False hope, an inch of pride that died
When I left to hide
From non stop battering of conditioned opinion
Rest assured but not assured, all is well,
but I think we've dealt with the fear for far too long
Unborn suffer the norm.
Born to this - I think not!
I stand against
Till the shit drops
We see all but do nothing, in the hole of "How it is"