butterflies

butterflies, pretty lies
power is given to the people
then taken back
and trust has become a thing of the past
men leading other men on to meet destiny
sharing doom
and held up to the light
you can see through their lies
paper thin, like silk, rice paper
striding down these long, gray corridors
where truth is subjective
and art is no longer an affirmation of life
cold and commercial, we have become
sheep, wooly and accommodating
easy prey for the
non-conformist poseurs
perception has no meaning
what you pecieve cannot be real
robed men are force-feeding you
fear and hypocrisy
and they all look like butterflies,
pretty lies