In A Sense

I'm gonna ride the mile high tide.

My teritory is intense,
I'll catch you first, my trickery of intent,
Outbound Soldier, Swallows his gun,
Tells all of his victories, casually undone.

Truth be told, truth be sold,
Retracted from your centre,
Your visions of the soul.

Weapons of war,
Now children play with guns,
We worry for our make up, now it's shake up.
Wake up and see it crumble, tumble, mysterious jumble, co injoined with fashion and politics celebrity frolics no time for mythical bollocks,
we're all still walking, where is the talking.
Even the trees are force fed to produce fruit.

We are the myths