I am a product. I am a symbol, of endless, hopeless, fruitless, aimless games. I'm a glossy package on the supermarket shelf. My contents aren't fit for human consuption. I could tragically injure your perfect health. My ingredients will seize up your bodys function. I am the dirt that everyone walks on. I am the orphan nobody wants. I am the staircarpet everyone walks on. I am the leper nobody wants to touch.......much. I am a sample. I am a scapegoat of useless, futureless, endless, mindless ideas. I am a number on the paper you file away. I'm a portfolio you stick in the drawer. I'm the fool you try to scare when you say "We know all about you, of that you can be sure" well, I don't want your crazy system, I don't want to be on your files. Your temptations I try to resist them cos I know what hides beneath your smiles, its..........EST. I am the subject. I am a topic for useless, futureless, endless, mindless debates. You think up ways that you can hide me from the naïve eyes of your figurehead, but don't you find that it ain't easy? Wouldn't you love to see me dead? Your answer is to five me the treatment for crying out when you give me pain, leave me with no possible remnant, you poke your knives into my brain, you send me insane. I'm an example. I'm no hero of the great, intelligent, magnificent, human race. I'm part of the race that kills for possessions, part of the race that's wiping itself out. I'm part of the reave hat's got crazy obsessions like locking people up, not letting them out. I hate the living dead and their work in factories. They go like sheep to their production lines. They live on illusions, don't face the realities, all the live for is that big blue sign, it says........Ford. I'M BORED, BORED, BORED.