Jaded

I traded in a dynasty to partake in the practice of dark magic that's muted,
Finding midnight cigarettes therapeutic.
Rough, I brush my chucks and the dust up off these wings,
Time to get up, I hear devils angels begin to sing.
No puppet master to pick at these plucking puppet strings,
I swing towards pitying circus rings with plummeting figurines,
I call them friends you call them sycophants,
You still can't make a civil dance,
So a devil chant towards enchanted charms left me I'm charge of sinister rants.
Like how'd you walk out of the house with those pants upon on your legs?
When I break you down to crumbs,
Even a mouse wouldn't eat that bread.
Sick, psychotic like the walking brain dead
With abiotic marches into the park where all the sane fled.
I said I'm fed up, I take a look up at the omnipotent,
Laugh, drink a potion and wonder why they consider him magnificent.
I like to see a bleak man beating the concrete yelling about the rapture
Trying to capture the attention of every actor.
Acting like they're taken in all the factors,
But as far as I'm concerned they've got it all backwards.
They lack words but use fat verbs to intimidate the masses.
All I do is smile when I pass them.
Have my midnight cigarette, inhale with a burning passion.
To not fraction the actions coming out of every faction,
Laughing, I follow my heart through the rough patches.