Fog of Fake

Lyrics

9/11 wasn't so much an inside job but a grand illusion that enveloped us all. We should have questioned the play after its act fell, yet we craved vengeance, never pausing to ask, "What truth lay beneath the facade's fall?" That day, a calculated demolition, cloaked in military smoke and semblance. Any genuine footage from truth-seekers? Or were they merely part of the prepped tableau? Most claim their devices failed them that day, and evacuation ensued after the first thunderous blow. A masterstroke of deception, broadcast live yet scripted in every show. We have leaders steeped in cunning—minds ensnared in shadows, the jumpers—human forms, lifelike yet surreal, crafted with chilling precision, bloodied mannequins designed to evoke horror real. A macabre artistic performance, intricately choreographed in haunting theater, to stir our collective consciousness, to redefine tragedy, and mark the dawn of an unsettling near. A grim prologue to the 21st Century's inception, leading us altered, seeking a misguided peace, or so we were led to believe—a mirage of unity, as our psyches were left fragmented, our grasp on reality ceased.