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Freedom
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Buck 65
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1
When young, we mourn for one woman as we grow old for women in general. The tragedy of life is that man is never free, yet strives for what can never be. The single-most (?) secret always happens; my life, my love, what are they now?
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But the more the pain grows, the more this instinct for life somehow asserts itself. The necessary beauty in life is in giving yourself to it completely. Only later will it clarify itself and become coherent.
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I wander the fields and listen for the sound of drums
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the colder the ground becomes the closer I get to home.
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the planet's not fit to roam, what, with all the chaos
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but when I saw the savages
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I played the law of averages
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And when the river splits in half,
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I start to lose my wits and laugh and cry at the same time
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there's nothing I can do about it
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even though I wouldn't doubt it if the winds began to blow
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and carried the sounds of my voice
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to the land below
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so I put my hands around my mouth
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and holler to the sunken city
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that wallows in the filth of its own drunken pity
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and wait to see a signal
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but a signal's never seen
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eventually fatigue builds inside me exponentially
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and so I sleep
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and dream that I am able to fly with wings
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later I awake in agony and learn
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that while I was sleeping, the city had burned
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shrugging my shoulders, I pause and gather thought
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think twice about staying put
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and then decide I'd rather not
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so I press on in my agnostic pilgrimage
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knowing that I can swim deeper
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than the grim reaper,
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ready for whatever sea creatures may abound
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when the water swallows me and not the other way around
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survival saw me through the mechanical district
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starvation lays to bay cannibalistic
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I've had to rely on cuns and and silence and talking quick
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defending myself with nothing but my walking stick
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I've never had friends and no parental guidance
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I'm wild at heart and weird on top
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I'm feared nonstop even though my rage has worn out
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my life's a book with several pages torn out
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I just climb trees and look for rhythm everywhere,
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I used to be the town crier in a city of stone-throwers
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until my soul was laid bare
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and displayed in the pearly square
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ignored more than a lot, not less
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no on understood my thought process
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I was gagged and bound over noise complaints
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but commanding the resolve that destroys constraints
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I found my escape in a melding of memories
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and the next thing I know I'm rowing this boat
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and blowing this note
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on an old tarnished trumpet
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ever since then I've been wandering lots
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watching sky and pondering thoughts
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strange angel, music box genie,
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behind for some time now I'm blind in one eye
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and how this happened exactly will never be known.
Freedom Isn't Free - Team America OST
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