Texty: Napalm Death. Death By Manipulation. Walls Of Confinement.

:
Before my eyes I see a wall
12,000 miles high
And the same amount wide
Within that wall are faces
Of people
To whom I could once relate

Now communication seems hard
When there's an ego barrier to break through

Opinions of self opinion
Cloud a new horison
The vision a mere illusion

Blased in conclusion
Trapped in seclusion
To the outside - exclusion

When an attitude is so biassed
What can you expect to change?

Banging your head
But the walls are not moving
It's enclosing

Burning so much energy
Enthusiasm burning
Is change the 'real' obsession?

Or with a sense of pretention,
Do you merely strive for credible attention???