N.j.s.

Free Hands Philosophy N.j.s.

Abnormal thoughts, walls with designs, cultures with theme, joints connecting the powerhouse, too bad it?s 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 reflection. Take it from me, you are not free, hands are bound while dark thoughts surround. Maybe philosophy brings me home-word bound. It?s a safe ride, no need to sit down. Shaking the brain, searching for a reason, millions of people wage life with tele-vision, I can?t tell what?s wrong with the world, but I?ll 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! It?s not your choice, that?s only up to presidents! Clever? Loose the lip service, don?t accept wealthy jerks bombing my residents, thats not war, that?s the sound of silence-ness. This gymnasium is empty I?m flying solo on this one so I?ll 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 I?m interesting then your in trouble, I?m crude, have you ever thought about a ufo dude? . . .