Existential Humanitarianism as a Fashion Choice

Master, master, I can’t work no faster
My fingers are already bleeding and what the fuck is a factor
I see lands green in a wintertime pasture
Ready to summon demons while the fuck ask you to past her
I can’t afford school, or maybe I ain’t smart enough
This all just my life though I realize it’s a part of us
Cause we’re the only things keeping us from insanity
That and a shitload of music filled with profanity
Fuck pretenders, I’m tired of these contenders
Pretentious, so fucking lame, I’m trying to be like Ender
A genius behind the scenes, while the heads and money surrenders
While phony ass motherfuckers condemn the sales inside blenders
And fuck the real too, phonies with the zeal too, condemn rather than nurture
kids who like punk and Seal too
Getting crazy, think I should go find my babies so we can escape and maybe feel
the feelings I feel too
I doubt it though, but shit I gotta hope
I guess I understand religion now is just a way to cope
But shit, why we gotta idolize the fucking pope
We all just humans, are we even fucking special? Nope
Well I have to admit, who am I to say
I ain’t even 21 but I do contemplate it everyday
The question that has no answer, elusive like dancers
Simultaneous path to enlightenment and a cancer
Master, master, I can’t work no faster
My fingers are already bleeding and what the fuck is a factor
I see lands green in a wintertime pasture
Ready to summon demons while the fuck ask you to past her
I can’t afford school, or maybe I ain’t smart enough
This all just my life though I realize it’s a part of us
Cause we’re the only things keeping us from insanity
That and a shitload of music filled with profanity
Twenty years I’ve spent contemplating my death, not like suicide,
I just like thinking about my breath
And the way and which the last one will occur
Humanity’s obsession with objection makes our lives one giant blur
It’s ironic the way that death has become so damn iconic
Living is all we do, the human condition is chronic
A byproduct of man’s curiosity and ferocity is it’s ability to make itself so
fucking despondent
I correspond if I’m asked if death would be obliged
A holy ghost or maybe even just a crooked spine
Just have it straight about the secrets or the cosmic sky
Then maybe men wouldn’t worry about the way they die
And focus more on the living and those who happen in trouble
Babies who’s mommas on rocks, I don’t mean Barney Rubble
Kids who can’t afford a Flintstone, who can’t grow stubble
Working in fields or factories, making pillows like puddles
Master master, I can’t work no faster
My fingers are already bleeding and what the fuck is a factor
I see lands green in a wintertime pasture
Ready to summon demons while the fuck ask you to past her
I can’t afford school, or maybe I ain’t smart enough
This all just my life though I realize it’s a part of us
Cause we’re the only things keeping us from insanity
That and a shitload of music filled with profanity