Slow

Gut level, below it all
Off duty, just hereFeeling like a knife's being twisted
In the hole of how it is
False hope, an inch of pride that died
When I left to hideFrom the non-stop battering
Of conditioned opinion
Rest assured but not assured, all is well
But I think we've dealt with the fear
For far too longUnborn suffer, unborn suffer
Unborn suffer the normBorn to this, I thin not
I stand against
Till the shit dropsWe see all but do nothing
In the hole of how it is