The Independent

Layers of noise fill the senses Transports my head to the depths of unknown Pierced by small blunt objects Barely breaking the surface We didn't overcome death or face despair Or felt the weight of circumstances It's hard to know you're in it When adversity runs lukewarm Fodder, the cumulative assassin Discontent in a breath Collected no recourse Unleashed in a firestorm Let the noise wash over me I'm too preoccupied to deny Decompose all of the parts Just move on to the next thing Hard to know when you're in it Revelation through silence Wisdom through whispers We diminished our dreams Applied discounts on happiness All the while accepting distortions The malformed intractable solution Growth crisis It's a growth crisis made king