As a walk the street of truth,
I see no longer the real me and you,
I ask where do the land of life exist,
To my neighbor,
He said what is life,
Fake smiles held between a phone and gun,
I asked has anyone seen the sun,
Truth of it is that no one knows anything anymore,
We are the key hole and the door,
As we exist we continue to see,
That this world we live is falling down like a tree,
Happy is the new sad,
I see luckily,
No one yet rooted out suicide to me.
~Rajah Dah Bass.