The glitter doesn't make the paradise
It is just an illusion making the fall
Will it last forever when the date you are gone?
It never earns credit to go beyond the border
Many will fall victims of the illusionists
The glitter in the mind isn't gold
So many rush into the pot of falling grace
Believing it will bring them out of poverty
How many become victims of promising gold?
In the clutches of syndicates they make lives hell
The freedom of choices falling on the wayside
The echo of distress, rape and torture cry
The syndicates promise life of paradise
The net of darkness the falling of grace
The choice of freedom burying in the hole
The whirring sound of victims bad choices
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