We define ourselves by needs
by the operative term of finding freedom,
we might be the one that bleeds
if while in action we lose our kingdom
to the crusader, the challenger, the chilling
We question the rights and our own
wrongs when trying to combine value
upon a selfish agonizing scream unknown
while the world derides the me in you.
Meanwhile the innocent blood is our bleeding
While a man determines their right,
question the many that came so long before
just living this way seems today to be a rite
of passage, a sacrifice long ago thought folklore.
Shatter the window to freedom becomes a shouting
We begin our lives in the comfort of loving arms
unbeknownst to our innocence, the living pain
to be endured in the years ahead in subtle charms
meant only to help create a divide without gain.
Everywhere else evocative notions shriek from willing
Life is a circle, a flowing line, an endless surface
In terms of morality we might a peace, promise