I take our zones of comprehension.
Leaving dreams so apprehended.
Recommended was the path that leads to wealth and bubble baths.
Fuck the reason.
Love the rhyme.
Retrieving a need to breed relief.
Afraid to feel afraid to see.
Afraid of peace.
The rhythm weeps.
We breathe belief.
We feed the dream.
Promoting greed our culture bleeds.
Still we rise with weary eyes.
Dripping rhythm pinching wisdom.
Hiding high to trade creation.
And as I fade away they will soon forget my name.
Soon thoughts of me will float through less,
the holes will close inside their chests.
When I fade away they’ll be nothing left.
Tumultuous reach leaves hands on the floor.
Struggling for more.
We give and give still they leave us helpless.
Serene in a region.
Smiling breezy each evening.
Access to reason and paradise breathing.
Its only a setting.
A clowns living there.
Giving his life to a world that don’t care.
Stealing every breath by walking.
Enlightening every thought by talking.
Coallision of imaginations.
Nonsense clocks tick tock illusions living now with love infusion.
We as one can be.
Awake enough to see.
We can all be free.
She hopes that when she leaves.
She spread a way to just believe.
The symphony is bittersweet but words repeat repeatedly.
Leading leads to weaving means to view the vision to proceed.
Bleeding heaving breathing thieving leaving evenings,
We all can be.
What we see.
If we agree.
We are we.
In favor of breathing.
Unafraid of leaving that which leaves the feelings grieving.
Perhaps we hate for those surrounding.
Unable to shake the grief that found us.
Awake and living filing smiles.
What can we leave before we’re dying?
Perhaps someday I may provide the freedom artists alibi.
Perhaps in light of all my ventures Ill in fact be someones mentor.
Maybe what I perceive as genius is simply a product of me as needless. Caught up in words that describe such a life that will lead me to be confined by my strife.
Love the fixture.
Absorbed in myself.
Embracing my scripture.
I feel I am here.
For just a few years.
I walk to create.
To escape from the fear.
The best I have known is in coallision form draped in chaos.
An animal of its own.
Gripe and grieve for reason being.
Leaving hearts on bleeding sleeves.
They tell me I have a funny grip.
Ive been told my moves are unusual.
If creation is visual.
My survival is musical.
Its so easy to remove.
So difficult to stand.
Defend against with love.
Intend to understand.