Because slowly sinking is this sleuth searching for secrets,
What lies above the line, and who's standing by his side?
Eyes focused on the dandelion bright causing mesmerization.
And the imitation of pixilation has got the colors all wrong.
But the realization of the retaliation in his mind makes him immune.
He is use to this exaggeration, and is intune to the news and the lies.
For what lies above The Line is desolate, and complicated.
His thoughts diluted for they can't reach to the sky but the surface.
Stuck in this conundrum between a mile of rock and a melting place,
To where you can trace his face to the discomfort and distaste,
And his general attitude to the news and the disgrace.
Self fulfilled prophecies is why his destiny is transposed,
Because the snow that falls is not made for snow balls,
And the crazy Acid Rain Dancers sound so distantly tribal;
To be in the light projected seems too composed,
For home is where the climate is controlled and can be reached.
Breaching the line while time passes by, means death from the sky in a fast decaying suicide.
Why the wise man can't say it in Layman's?
That's because the wise man is preaching to a gospel who has already decided;
Provided everything they need, for they are the ones to carry out the deeds,
Of the nefariously inclined Mole-Men, curiously controlling,
Every means of information about The Line, gospel, and snowing.
So it's discourteous to doubt them, roundabout and surround them,
Throwing stones cast no valid point to fascinate them,
And words can be configured to the over-imposing figure,
Making it impossible to feat relentless obstacles,
Triggering a chain against thought, can now be proven possible,
Maybe even profitable, taking away your view,
True to the skewed vision of the world is what they'll make you do.
Preaching that it is exactly as they see on the simulated screen.
Believing is Truth,
Think is Unreasonable,
When they already have the Proof,
Everything's Believable,
But nothing is bearable, ironically hysterical.
How could glistening grey frozen water melt a man on top of us?
The only way to find out is to seek it in context,
But with the network not connected makes the whole ordeal complex,
Convex behind walls, In shelter from the Mole Brain,
Scripture is the main way to find about The Change,
From Acid Rain Dancers, to Mole-Men encaged,
To exchange mental capacity makes the audacity of the sane look meaningless,
Paradoxically insane for the rambling of the mad man coming from the brain,
Strained is the mind, for we must only think with logic,
Defined as what we see and hear and not pictures in the head of nonsense,
So they tell us history repeats itself, so don't worry about change,
For The Change helped us cross over to a history that is tamed,
But named as History, written as Fiction,
All caused by Fission, bigots forcing with Friction.
Are the figure heads and focal points of the overlying under folk,
Just reasons for a self written treason brought out and deceiving,
All the people, leaving cycles forever spinning,
Not meant to be solved which means the Mole Brains winning.
And you may not think like them, or speak like them,
But when they call upon you, you be the brethren,
Or the comrade they seek, held firm on your feet,
Too afraid to ask the other M-Men what they see or think,
Held inside you to begin with is a so-called evil ambition,
Making you listen, making you wishing,
To find a way to break away and continue on your mission,
To denounce The Brain and free the mind,
Making the only controlling factor not the sky line, but time,
And to not be written out, before you've lived it,
Because each thought has a seed that wasn't written to begin with.
