the fight for individuality and the irony of identity fraud(everyone wants to be someone else)

this is the land of the free who chose slavery. an ever expanding suburbia built with strategically placed tombstones. your coffin is just part of the scenery. never mind the green in our eyes or the ink on our skin, we built this three car garage with integrity and the sweat on our brows. elastic lips. we're impailed on our white picket fences. once friends, now buisness associates. just another conquest. steel and plastic nametags twist and form into the shape of a heart. socially accepted contortionist. every smile rhymes and every kiss hints at silverscreen innocence. like riding a merry-go-round on the highway.