Taste of Freedom

Taste of Freedom

The freedom
in you

Swellin into
a young
boy

You live
in the
midst of
cakes

The red
aplomb on
your face

With the
grace of
a girl

You grow
up

In the
grind of
big machine

Your arms
molded into
coal

A day
comes

Everythin goes
haywire

You into
a chair

A slave
of time

The agony
unending

You become
the hoar
of world

Waitin to
fly

Not a
soul nearby

To take
you to
the doors
of heaven

A mornin
comes

You find
yourself

On the
road

Running for
the love
in you

They say,
there are
miracles

You must
carry on

Never to
end as
a slave

Caution: This might be all theory

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