Carbon Copy

A constant torment to the senses
 World of pleasure through rose-colored lenses
 Indifference to a culture of clones
 A carbon copy of an idol unknown
 Off the bridge, you plummet
 Nausea never makes you learn from it
 River of gold is just so bitter
 Bite the barrel, squeeze the trigger
 Wading in streets of filth
 Cruelty turned habitual
 Tunnel vision aimed at your high
 Collision with the concrete
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 Choke on your indulgence
 Poison yourselves in harmony
 Culture in a downward spiral
 Will it be real when the cloth you bear is stained with blood and bile?