A Machination

I am not a fixture. It wouldn’t be that simple.
I’m anachronistic and I am listless.
What a waste, you think that I given in on the fight.
What a shame, that I can’t sustain the presence of mind to keep you entertained.
Yeah, yeah, clichés. You got bored and I got lucky.
I know the clouds are hiding something.
Diffuse subterfuge, you’re confused of this endgame.
Ankle-deep deluge, you’re confused of this endgame.
What’s the endgame for us?
What’s the endgame with no exit?