The Channel is Stuck

Blessed are we distorted, to those lost in their mind.

To the angel who can't get her wings no matter how hard she tries, Her mind rejects her ambition.

To the pentagram boys who just wants his own slice of heaven, Their pieces of paradise fallen into the pit.

To all the masks we wear for all the times we suffocated in them, all the moments of freedom waved by.

To all the Gods we believe in to all the stars we wished on, watch them fall like villains.

To all ourselves we've beaten down to all the times we've shot ourselves down, be mindful of your own shadow.

To the world who wants to conform to all the fit-inners , jam yourself on their boxans scream loud enough to where you sound like them.

To all the world burners for those who watch, extinguish the hate in you heart.

To those wishing the channel will change,

You're not the remote you control nothing until you get up, so get up!