What a wonderful delusion
If I wanted chicken and rice
I would have never said the word fries
A sub station
Sub par
Breaks my heart
The idea I wanted a subsititue
Implies there was never a first
As substitutions go, this is the worst
I've learned over time
To accept every lie
If I can be a person
There is a substituted version
No, I'd like no loyalty
I'd like a disloyal reality
Whatever it is, whole or part
It lacks everything, even the heart
A substitution is a reboot
A semi-anual second thought
Like a hotdog pretending to be brat
Freedom has no substitution
So what have we here?
If this isn't equal?
Then we have everything to fear.
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