The Great Depression - Misery Index

Storm clouds spreading

Black horizons oil slick the southern sky

What prospects should I gather here to motivate my corpse to rise?

Bloodshot

My eyes reject the staleness of this day

And 'reason' gives purpose for all the pills i have to swallow

Driving

My heart is dead and hollow

Metal boxes racing by

Ringing out the death of my life

Machines buzzing

Towers looming the antithesis of nature

Entering this asphalt tomb- self — interest my prime dictator

Now that i stand to carry the weight — try to conceive me that it’s all for

Something?

Now that i stand to carry the weight

I lie to myself… am i living-dead?

Four walls surround me with wires outstretched- the triumph of time over

Space

The modus vivendi- each man for himself

Each alone

And each an island

Get me out of this hole somehow… get me out of this hole right now… my

Great depression