The Yacht of My Lethargy

There is a gleam on their faces
With a glass of poison and the soul of Brutus
Enjoying the calm breeze of the ocean
On the yacht of my lethargy

 

“Hallelujah! Us the kings!”
They tell themselves
Realizing the shallowness of their every word
On the yacht of my lethargy

 

Everyone is perfect indeed
If they only realized that
Mimicking the higher humans with perfection
On the yacht of my lethargy

 

The seabird might see happiness on their faces
With its innocent wings and pure thoughts
Alas! The ‘kings’ are busy in a war of their own
On the yacht of my lethargy

 

I built the boat in my dreams
Swaying away from the ‘reality’ I never accepted
Ending up as a prisoner
On the yacht of my lethargy

 

There is no key; neither have I wanted one
The bars are comfortable
I may die in my luxurious trap
On the yacht of my lethargy

 

Remarks, jeering and jealousy
I refuse to accept
In the numbness of my slumber
On the yacht of my lethargy

 

Nothing lasts forever; they should realize
A day will come, the owner will rise
And he shall strike the hammer of his desire
On his satanic yacht of lethargy