There is a place in the bottom of the soul, Its the bread of destitution. Hearts splashed flat like dough, Where there is no pollution, Mute with no words to hold, Hopes, questions or solutions. Bedrock of a river that flowed, No past, present or future. We are men of nature, We are made from the earth, At the end of my eighty, Ill return to the dirt, Just sand, just rock, Dry land, vast and silent. Only being, only breathing, Were just children of believers. Like fire and water be strong with compassion. In the morning were born everlasting. Like the grass by the sea bending with the wind, Which knocks it down time and again. We remain and sing standing, Til the dawn of day carries us away. As we sway through the phases of each generation, We leave our trace and then leave this station. Fears, frowns, fantasy fades, No blame untamed, unspoken. Shiggy walks through the space on dry land Thats cracked and broken. We came to taste the rain, Were just widows and orphans. Not afraid to feel the pain Or to leave behind our notions. Bathe and shower, taste the tension. Hear the howl, climb the mountain. Kiss the cold and heal the frozen. Read the dreams in this here dungeon. We are men of nature, We are made from the earth, At the end of my eighty, Ill return to the dirt. Just sand, just rock, Dry land, vast and silent. Only being, only breathing, Were just children of believers. There is fire in these leaves and they fall naturally, Im not afraid to face these seasons. Cause times change and theres no one to blame, Even when the day is leaving. Will you rise like a lion in the morning sun? Or will you just lay there bleeding? When the time has come return to the kingdom, Close my eyes and be screaming freedom. Freedom, freedom, Freedom, freedom. https://youtube/watch?v=hfJSI_NpGu8
Posted on: Mon, 05 Jan 2015 23:36:41 +0000
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