Calculated narration falls from a tainted tongue. A painting stitched together woven from a thread hand sewn, draped across the backs of hungry and distracted friends of foes. Reality perceived is hidden in a shadow, mal intent is never shown. Fed the fodder shaped by hands unknown. Swallowing a fiction that’s been grown. They’ll distort the truth, package it as proof. Diagram that suits tangled ink on the page illustrating the lies we believe. Storm clouds gather, deluge sets to task. Can’t be bothered, questions go unasked. Rally round our tables made of stone. Buried in the sand we feel at home. Contrived with fraud in mind. They’ve formulated life. They built the house we dwell inside, our minds we’re made before we tried. Soak up the scenes that we are shown, it’s hard to break from paths so known. They’ll distort the truth, package it as proof. Diagram that suits tangled ink on the page illustrating the lies we believe. Full collapse of truth is handed out as proof. A framework that suits drying ink on a page illustrating the face that deceives. (Peel back screens, now you found out never trust a talking head. Scripted teeth scream, you need to be afraid of something.) Orchestration is able to tip weight in favor of evil actions condoned in the absence of information. This contest is won with what’s real. How can minds be made able to wade through madness surreal? Madness so surreal.