the spangler

program!
control!
civilize!
take hold!
break free of hands!
sink deep! quicksand!

a punishment is brought upon you
as you are suffering from disease.
treatment is a place you fear,
a one-way ticket to existence on your knees,
a sleep that's without dreams,
extinction on your knees,
a sleep that's without dreams

blank walls stare back at a flea-bitten hand,
scratching at the walls as you reach for the land
it took a while for you to come to recognize just who I am

your life in command!
my life is in command!
our lives, out of our hands,
because we fear the quicksand

all is well is all is well is all is well is all is well is...

dead! Dead! Are you dead? Dead!
is there life left? Is your blood red! Shades of grey

there is no hope for you within the confines of state
a surface to destroy, disease will procreate