our future is a fiction but we don't sleep to dream

you got your head in the clouds and you're not all what you seem, physical things unfortunately. i've got my own hell to raise, all sense: a body, i have never been insulted in all my life. run. hide. i got my feet on the ground, and i don't go to sleep to dream, identification is a form of oppression, don't make it a big deal, don't be so sensitive, making embodiment a must, you don't have to be so defensive, we aren't nihilists, we pragmatic, this mindless body, some future, don't show your face.