The thrills of monotonous dubstep
Are nothing to the chills I get from you
The chill heat pulsating off you
In sarcastic waves that wash on the shores
Drinking at a bar in the electric city
Reading a storybook and pretending it is truth
Not jealous, or boastful, or relentless
My apologies to the world from my heart
It is regretful for the certain circumstances
Leading up to the eventuation of a volcano
We know the truth is coming, we feel it
It lingers in the echoy halls of memories
That have not yet come to be, or pass, or fail
One does not know the outcome of a situation
One refuses to partake in, it is complacency
It is knowing perfection, and loving it
For all that it is, and all that it is not
And not having the courage to own it
Now that is a state of stagnancy
The evidence is there and the case
Is ready to be heard.

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