Traición al idioma

You know, at the end of the day, that it all comes down to us against them.
What THEY want, what is right or wrong in THEIR eyes.
And I end up prancing up and down my 4 by 4 room, bare feet… so iconically you.
Is it us or is it them?
And why the cliché epical struggle?
Too many questions, very few answers…And every time a question is answered, new ones are born, like never-ending-words.
Stop looking and you’ll find
Stop chasing and you’ll catch
Stop wondering, and you will understand.

If you never sleep you will never wake up, therefore you’ll never see the manufactured illusions of this broken world and find the courage to dream.
Dream.
Dreams of colored rainbows and purple skies,
where marshmallows are cheaper by the dozen
and Willy Wonka never dies.

But they say no.
For them, fantasy gives reality a bad name.

In any case, I think the question here would be…

WHO THE FUCK IS THEM?!