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