I go to the exremes and have to cut my mind on a jagged edge to burst my emotions before I explode into a thousand selves
We can be who we are or play more games
Maleable like a stream my other selves give birth
The I and the flesh
The antenna of the soul
Our biology tells some of it all, but can we be free?
In the cave we know, but who is brave enough to tell that we are porns in the scheme of it all
The life is a shaddow and Of myself I can do nothing and waste my days
A meloncholy messenger, a cut price Jesus
I play with it all while the truth is told about the one who creates
One architect for it all
The will protests and wants to flow free imagining many shapes in a colourful parade
I ramble, I stumble my detrators persue
They wish to dance and be it all
I played, I succumbed to be part of the crowd and now rocks are thrown at my weary head
The parade, the parade the madness and all
The questions that died from not being asked a long time ago
The rants and the chats all by myself....
Can I see the Sun through the trees and find the way that he walked