Gut level, below it all
Out of duty - just here

Feeling like a knife's being twisted in the hole of how it is

False hope, an inch of pride that died
When I left to hide from non-stop
Battering of conditioned opinion

Rest assured, but not assured
All is well, but I think we've dealt
With the fear for far too long

Unborn suffer, unborn suffer
Unborn suffer the norm
Born to this - I think not!
I stand against till the shit drops

We see all but do nothing, in the hole of "How it is"