The Struggler

Back just last morning, your head's in a rut
Thinking 'bout the painted scars
We try to remember when they came together
But it always feels hopeless

Sweet mother mercy
You seem to have left us neglected
How can you claim that there's peace in the world
When the only ones saved are the very worst

The factories, the fields, the homes, and the somethings
An ocean of spirits that'll live up to nothing
Cascade around the entire horizon
There's nowhere left to go

And tears not of pain, nor struggle nor strain
But the constant cycle of all that's mundane
Will drown out your worries, for you shall be saved
Or so they say...

W-where am I?
You're asleep
What do you mean? That doesn't make sense
Everything. Everything will make sense, just come with me
Excuse me?
You heard me

This is the world. You are in it
You can look at it, touch it, perhaps rule it
But even when you aren't, it still exists
For while you may be what perceives it
It is not an extension of yourself

That being said, while it can live without you
You cannot live without it
You're going to wake up soon, so I'll leave you with this
Live your life, live it as you want to see it
But do not forget the conditions which made it possible