I like to fantisize.
Bout the symptons they prescribe
And the newborn afterlives
That the phantoms prophezise
The demons in disguise
The heaven in our skies
The one who steers our lives
The grim reaper to surprise
The sun we see at sunrise
When I am not awake
How it will be decorated
My next birthday cake
How my life will be if my dream comes true
How the sea will seem when I stand there by you
Once in a few times an unwanted thought
Flows into my fantasies and is cought.

How it will feel the day that I die
How it would feel to commit suicide
When my dear parents will fade away
What would happen if the sky turned endlessly grey
Another war broke out and we were all consumed
One of my fears were realized that I never assumed
Would. Knock on wood knock on wood.

If the sun never set this one afternoon
If the world stopped spinning then again resumed
If our house was hit by a deadly typhoon
If a comet crashlanded on our porch.

We would all be flamed and torched.
If a war broke out we would be tortured and caught.
If a war broke out we would be slaughtered like pigs.
Pigs will still be slaughtered if we don’t hinder it.
My uncle died and it’s stilll just a month away.
There is no guarantee we will see a new day.
Another catastrophe might be heading our way.
And god might not exist, so it might be useless to pray.

They say a lot of things. They fantasize in arrays.
Of a number of digits an equation persuays.
Logic has been missed and missplaced.
With this thing called science.

Without form or face.
A limitable sentence or phrase.

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