Three Bags Full

The Human condition
A neverending mission
Exploitative fissions
Of self-entitled entitlement
Feigning enlightenment
Was it always that way?
Maybe so
We'll never know eh?
It could be one day we all see the same way
But in my world
My era
There is only one way to convey the day
When the clock finally strikes midnight
Not the bell that rings
From the last piece of scaffolding
So postcards can be whole again
History endeavours to twist a victory
Grovelling subjects abject to inevitably
Chasing the sunset
But from yesterday
A reference to regrets
Obviously
The tide of time leaves ripples
As a lifetime of furrowed brows
Suppressed with toxic needles
Shine as they browse
The lifeline of a like-a-holic, counting
The clown face of a joker, weeping
Lowering to the lowest common denominator
Blood curdling screams rising up from the epic echo chamber 
Underneath the noise it's easy to reckon with the reverberation fraternity
Plugging away without any certainty