Carbon Copy

A constant torment to the senses
World of pleasure through rose-colored lenses
Indifference to a culture of clones
A carbon copy of an idol unknown

Off the bridge, you plummet
Nausea never makes you learn from it
River of gold is just so bitter
Bite the barrel, squeeze the trigger

Wading in streets of filth
Cruelty turned habitual
Tunnel vision aimed at your high
Collision with the concrete

Choke on your indulgence
Poison yourselves in harmony
Culture in a downward spiral
Will it be real when the cloth you bear is stained with blood and bile?