Death While Standing

You're ruthlessly talked into leaving,
My humble abode but still you're not welcome home no more,
And you said you felt a hundred million years had passed.
Do you know how to pass the time?
With your insufferably written rhymes.
And so, the world's a paradox,
On the contrary motion,
comfortability arose then?
So who'd you think you are, Goldilocks?
Don't let them down,
With your Agincourt fingers and frowns.
I'm like a target on a rifle range,
Wrap my head like a snake but it's not too late.
You're late, and face to face with fate,
It's strange, I'm such a state.
For you, For you
And in a cult crash landing,
Can you hear the endearing fans chanting?
The more you push it, you push it and cause another death by standing.