safe in the delusion
ah yes, the flag. that sacred napkin of convenience, waved by trembling hands that wouldnt last five seconds without the illusion of righteousness stitched into their skin. goddamn - they wrap themselves in it like a second epidermis, a holy relic to hide the stench of rot leaking from every unexamined crevice of their psyche. they strut with it, sleep with it, sweat into it like a toddler with a comfort blanket soaked in daddy issues & wartime propaganda reruns. not out of reflection. not conviction. no -out of fear. fear of looking in the mirror & seeing the coward behind the curtain of stars & stripes or crosses or slogans or whatever fucking flavor of myth theyve snorted like coke off a cracked bible.
we arent talking about belief. belief is dangerous but at least its honest. no, this is theater. this is dead-eyed performance art in a crumbling amphitheater of empire. performative patriotism - that low-budget cosplay of virtue where every flag bumper sticker is a middle finger to nuance & every facebook prayer post is just a smoke grenade tossed into the void to avoid saying i am afraid. i am small. i do not understand the world i helped destroy.
they chew on thorns & call it steak. swallow bile & pretend its communion. chant freedom while shackled to delusions theyve never had the spine to question. the real national anthem aint some bombastic show tune about rockets red glare - its a wheezing hymn of denial sung by a million throats clenched in the death grip of comfort. the land of the free, home of the brave? bullshit. this is the land of the numb & the home of the terrified. a nation built on myth, sustained by inertia, collapsing under the weight of its own masturbatory nostalgia.
you ever meet one of these people in the wild? i have. they reek of vinegar & gun oil & stale rage. they talk in memes. they believe in freedom the way a junkie believes in detox - abstractly, as long as it dont actually hurt. their god wears camouflage & their truths come prepackaged in cable news soundbites. theyll choose death before thinking for themselves. theyd rather set fire to the world than light a single candle inside their skulls.
& it aint just the red-hat brigade. this disease has metastasized across evry aisle, evry altar, evry scene. the faux-rebels are just as bad - cartoon anarchists with Che tattoos made in China & manufactured outrage hotter than their microwaved hot pockets. performative rebellion is the same cowardice in a different hoodie. yelling “fuck the system” while begging for clout, chanting rage against the machine lyrics while waiting for the algorithm to give them another dopamine cookie.
ideological dependency - thats the real drug. more addictive than meth, easier to find than clean water, & way more fucking profitable. its the lie that tells you youre safe. that your tribe is right. that you never have to ask why am i like this? because asking might lead to seeing & seeing might lead to knowing & knowing might blow a hole straight through the ego youve spent your whole miserable goddamn life duct-taping together with witty bumper stickers & dead heroes.
meanwhile the world burns. the oceans rise. the fascists organize. but the deluded? they chew their thorns, spit out their bones, scream about woke mobs & baby blood while the soil turns to ash beneath their feet. they clutch their flags tighter, convinced that death wrapped in myth is nobler than life stripped of illusion.
what a fucking joke. what a carnival of clowns & martyrs pretending not to be afraid of the dark. emotional cowardice disguised as conviction. souls for sale at a discount price. its not even original anymore. we've seen this script before - rome, berlin, televangelist texas. the same goddamn play with different costumes & a shitty soundtrack.
but heres the twist no one wants to hear: the delusion is safer than the truth, because the truth is ugly. the truth is aint nobody coming to save you. your heroes were frauds. your childhood church was a pyramid scheme. the flag you salute flies over prisons, drone strikes & pipelines carved into earth. your safety is someone elses hell. your pride was paid for with someone elses blood.
so go ahead - keep chewing. keep spitting. keep pretending. wear your delusion like armor. wrap yourself in myth. drown in the chorus of like-minded ghosts, all moaning the same lullabies of false comfort. but know this: evry lie you tell yourself is a nail in the coffin of your own humanity. evry time you look away, you lose another piece of whatever truth you still carry inside.
& when the final curtain drops - when the smoke clears & the mirrors shatter - youll find yourself alone, naked, screaming into a void that never cared, clutching a flag that couldnt save you from yourself.
god bless america. yeah, god fucking help us all.
but thats the punchline, aint it? this was never about salvation. it was about sedation.
keeping the masses dosed on a drip feed of comforting bullshit while the architects of the lie sip bourbon behind bulletproof glass & laugh at the spectacle of fools fighting over the scraps of their own delusions.
because the machine dont need your love - just your obedience. it feeds off your fear, fattens itself on your outrage, & keeps you punching shadows while the real monsters slide their hands deeper into your pockets. the flag? your faith? the slogans carved into your psyche like a lovers initials on a dive bar bathroom stall? all tools. instruments. keys to a cage you willingly locked yourself inside, begging for the illusion of purpose.
& jesus fitzgerald christ, the irony - how these people scream about freedom while marching in lockstep to the dirge of empire, howling liberty with one hand on a bible & the other choking the life out of anyone who dares to live outside their script. they wear crosses like gang signs. wave flags like cudgels. & evry time you peel back the layers, you find the same rotting fucking truth under the costume: a frightened child in an adult skin suit, shaking with rage at a world that no longer bows to their fantasy.
they call it patriotism. i call it ritualized denial, state-sponsored cosplay for the emotionally stunted.
you see them evrywhere - at rallies, in pews, in comment sections vomiting up the same talking points they memorized from a dead-eyed pundit or twitter influencer with a gold tie & a thousand-yard stare. parroting lies like scripture. calling it conviction. but its not conviction, its cowardice with a filter on. a curated identity sold in twelve easy payments by men whove never felt a real consequence in their lives.
they dont want freedom. they want authority that looks like them, prays like them, hates like them - they want a throne to kneel before, as long as its shaped like their own reflection.
& while they scream about the sanctity of life, they look away from cages filled with children, ignore the bullets in school hallways, wave off the bodies washing up on shores, the heatwaves cooking the poor, the sickness in the water. not their problem. not in their backyard. not in their bible. not in their version of the american dream, where evrything inconvenient gets paved over & painted red, white, & blue.
& still they ask: why are we so divided?
divided? no. this isnt division - this is exposure. the great unveiling of the raw nerve underneath the collective facade. the moment when the masks slip, when civility rots, & we see exactly what we’ve always been: a country of broken people clinging to myths like life jackets, too afraid to admit the waters already over our heads.
& yet they keep screaming. keep praying to the ghosts of dead presidents & invisible gods. keep calling it strength when it aint nothing but fear dressed up in borrowed armor.
they say truth will set you free, but they never tell you what itll cost. because truth strips you bare. truth dont hug you - it fucking slaps you in the face & asks what the fuck youve been doing all these years. truth forces you to reckon with your complicity, your silence, your cowardice. & nobody wants that. they want a scapegoat. preferrably one with darker skin, a different god, the wrong pronouns, a funny accent….someone to blame so they never have to feel the burn of accountability.
because if they look in the mirror too long, theyll see the cracks….& if they follow the cracks, theyll find the rot….& if they find the rot, theyll realize it lives inside them too.
so instead, they double down. build higher walls. sing louder hymns. wave bigger flags.
& whisper to themselves that this - this - is what makes them righteous.
but deep down, they know. they know the dream is dead, the rot is real & the myth theyve tattooed on their hearts is bleeding out on the pavement of reality.
they are not safe in the delusion - they are trapped in it. buried alive beneath decades of manufactured glory & weaponized nostalgia.
& someday, when the last comfort fades & their last lie turns to dust, theyll stand in the ruins they helped build - draped in flags, choking on ash, whispering prayers to gods who never listened - & they will call it freedom.
but it wont be. it never was.
[Verse1]
you wear that flag like a second skin
tied to the lies youre hiding in
a crown of thorns that you cant feel
blind to the wounds that never heal
you swallow the poison, it tastes like gold
afraid to see what the truth might hold
promises wrapped in blood & fear
but youre too afraid to look in the mirror
[Pre-Chorus]
& you think youre safe, so safe in the delusion
hiding from the chaos, the bruising confusion
youre digging in the dirt while the worlds on fire
feeding your soul to the lie
[Chorus]
youre chewing on thorns & spitting out the bones
telling yourself that youre not alone
empty words, but they sound like truth
theyre just a blanket for your broken youth
you think youre right, but its all a show
a game of shadows where you dont wanna know
youre safe in the delusion, So far from the light,
but youre dying inside & you wont put up a fight
[Verse2]
you can hear the promises in the air
but they only echo in the empty prayer
youve traded your soul for a fleeting dream
afraid to see whats underneath the seams
lead as a ghost in a crimson robe
filling your head with a hollow code
a truths a thing you dont want face
so you cling to the lies your only saving grace
[Pre-Chorus]
& you think youre safe, so safe in the delusion
living in a world built on confusion
youre hiding behind your hatred & pride
while the real world burns and youre running to hide
[Chorus]
youre chewing on a thorn & spitting out the bones
telling yourself that youre not alone
empty words, they sound like truth
but theyre just a blanket for your broken youth
you think youre right, but its all a show
a game of shadows where you dont wanna know
youre safe in the delusion so far from the light,
but youre dying inside & you wont put up a fight
[Bridge]
go ahead, keep chewing on your lies
spitting out the bones of your alibis
you dont wanna see what youve become
a millstone to a deafening drum
chew it down, swallow it whole
while the world around you takes its toll
look away, hide behind your faith
but you cant outrun the emptiness you chase
[Chorus]
youre chewing on a thorn & spitting out bones
telling yourself that youre not alone
empty words, they sound like truth
but theyre just a blanket for your broken youth
you think youre right, but its all a show
a game of shadows where you dont wanna know
no, youre safe in the delusion so far from the light,
but youre dying inside & you wont put up a fight
but youre dying inside hiding from the light