About the Purpose That We Serve

So we're caught in conversation
Lost in language I can't understand
Civility's a foil for all the blood that stains the soil
We never scratch beneath the surface of the sand

Dialed-in dreams; disassociation
This type of talk makes me want to cry
It took people in the street to make modernity complete
Don't take a PhD to see it was a lie

Every action driven in the living
Nourished with some notions close at hand
Some food for thought, one just might choke on what they're given
There's so, so many voices, look around and you've got choices

But the angle's always altered for convenience
Common sense so tailored to the time
It were ever to conserve that which we think that we deserve
Perverted and preserved to stay in line

Beware the seduction of those choices
Especially the easiest to see
Somewhere in the middle falls a deep dismissal of us all
And expectation it would endlessly be we

Who cast a vote of no imagination
Who dive down hook and sinker for the line
A thing called "progress" is produced through practiced patience
But metaphors for forward motion often reel you back in time, I tell you

We two were waxing philosophic
About the purpose that we serve
About our fracturing perspectives
About the trust that we deserve

Some say you've got no way of knowing
So leave it to the ones who do
Be it a priest or politician
Know it's never you
It's just a modern iration
It's just a taken of the truth
While we'd be purpose all our wisdom
Mom stands there, so loose