I wonder what the sky says
when we fall in line
in what we call freedom
but we are slaves to ourselves
 Run run, away from responsibilities
but you can’t hide from Life
He knocks on your door, your door
of a fake wall you’ve built.
Sing sing, your song of opinion and protest
you know nothing at all
no, you have not met Life.
 You find your seeds, but you make others plant them
they take care of them
but they are not under your control,
though you swear they are yours.
Yes yes, we are slaves to ourselves.
We are slaves to the falseness we have brought in our homes
Those seeds grow and they are
more than you bargained for.
 Run run, as fast as you can, to your home.
Your home of lies. home of sin. home of false.
Tis not a home, no, no.
 But a place you’ve set for you to plot
your seeds.
And find them a maker.
Because you hide in your house of lies. Away from Life.

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