History

You fall like a waterfall
Pulling down your insincerities
I erode you to your bedrock
And, in the fossils, the inscription reads

If you think you've made history
You're not as huge as you thought
So pull the safety pins out your palms
There's no more room on the cross
So step off

Your presence is a gaping hole
A wound from which your contradictions bleed
It's documented in my laptop
And it just reaffirms statistically that

If you think you've made history
You're not as huge as you thought
So pull the safety pins out your palms
There's no more room on the cross
So step off