This place is a desert for the mind Void of emotion and barren of thought No real thought at least There's no surprise Most minds here have long since atrophied from lack of use It waited flatlined for the next rushing jolt of synthetic stimulation The real world can't compare Even if it were allowed to Contemplating, the real world leads to seeing the world for what it is: A prison A cell for the mind, body and soul All my life I've been a prisoner Cowering at the idea that I might be capable of unique thought Terrified of what my only instincts might lead to So how could I blame them? But it hasn't always been this way I've heard rumours Filtered, distant, faded I seek to know the truth