Majority’s Spirit is Fake With No Fate

Thoughts simmer like a brisk dinner.
They ever venture, the man makes the indenture.
Lofty mortals overseer the modern adventure.

Broadcast through the gullible individual.
Mocking we the majority.
Lofty hog's notions are to sell hope potions
Spheres inhabitant’s desires get backfired.
Posh tribe won’t die men lie to die alike.

Keep it deep, steep hard to reach the peak
masses sleep, bleed, planting all-mighty seeds
Violently gripping and clinging to achieve peace.
Ignorance keeps their importance.
Exquisite limiteds petrify 99 percent alive.
All want to fly, fight, and get high to taste the all-mighty guy.

Thus I must say goodbye.