Free Hands Philosophy

Abnormal thoughts, walls with designs, cultures with theme, joints connecting
the powerhouse, too bad its a crime. The dark side is lovely, the sun lends a soul,
spirits never die but bodies will grow old. Trust and deception, no comprehension,
emotions run wild while all resides in a temple of trial and refl ection. Take it from me,
you are not free, hands are bound while dark thoughts surround. Maybe philosophy
brings me home-word bound. Its a safe ride, no need to sit down. Shaking the brain,
searching for a reason, millions of people wage life with tele-vision, I cant tell whats
wrong with the world, but Ill ask you why. Die, die, die, guns, guns, guns, war, war,
war. Fun, fun, fun? Why! Are you waiting next to a lever for a train far away thats
about to end me forever? The answer is.. yes! Its not your choice, thats only up
to presidents! Clever? Loose the lip service, dont accept wealthy jerks bombing my
residents, thats not war, thats the sound of silence-ness. This gymnasium is empty Im
fl ying solo on this one so Ill pick up a pen and then make it all good hun. No risk,
no gain, no truth is painless, keep reading this and feel a spec-in, sanity restless. If you
think Im interesting then your in trouble, Im crude, have you ever thought about what´s inside a
ufo dude? . . .