Greeting Bedlam Lyrics & Chords By Ken Mode

It never started with flow, a conscience, or inspiration.
Only minds poised on the goal of infiltration.
The point of excursion forgotten not far from the beginning, but the witch-hunt proceeds.
Time and time again, searched out and eliminated with no foresight on consequence,
"the now" encompasses all perceptions and focus is set on the fake leaves.
Guard cells of plastic and nylon.
A total lack of foundation.
Always the critic aren't you?
Each team as guilty as the next;
while the point is constantly being missed.
I must admit, I enjoy the fabrication, you'd think we're all reinforced by inorganic supports from time to time.
The plastic ones. Merit less in a forum dependent on stature.
All swollen with pride.
Fading with the next vision (with age), and a vested interest that's pre-approved.
Their rightful place; no marks on the walls; no influence; nothing lost nothing gained.
But they've paved the way for the next generation of fake leaves.