Nahlidge
XM
Bruklor
What is freedom, when you`re always told what to do?
What is life, when the path ahead was molded for you?
What is liberty, anything more than a symbol or statue?
What is happiness, when the thought of it gets thrown at you?
What is a lie, when it`s sugar coated and told in a hymn?
What is truth, when the common man keeps holdin` it in?
What is right, when we're told we should follow what's wrong?
What is left, when everyone but you seems to move on?
I`ve seen freedom, from the trigger side of a double barrel
I`ve lived life, not worryin` about passive trends or apparel
I`ve found liberty, on the same street that houses madness
I`ve been happy, until it left me, I don`t know what happened
I`ve told a lie, beacuse I knew you couldn`t handle the truth
I`ve sold the truth, to the horned man that stands in a suit
I`ve been right, from the start, all along you`ve been wrong
I`ve never left, all I asked was for you to hold out your arm
What is clause, when justified by the sayings of men?
What's the effect, when every action evolves to a sin?
What is beliefs, with no proof of heaven or hell?
What is faith, when words brought the sake of a sell?
What is blood, when you barely remember the drips?
What is family, when their only used for you to exist?
What is existance, when nobody ever noticed you there?
What is dying, when no one grieves or shows that they care?
I've known clause, I've never needed a reason to act
I've seen effects, and every one tends to lead to a fact
I've use to believe, til' knowledge said it was written by us
I've had faith, but my old ways won't allow me to trust
I've spilled blood, even though I don't agree with war
I've found family, that never stayed, what the fuck were they for?
I've longed existance, since everybody's in need of purpose
I've avoided dying, well I hope living is certainly worth it
What is disaster, if we've witnessed nothing but it's wrath?
What is magic, when we only reminisce about it's past?
What is hate, without the productivity of laughter?
What is immortal, if we feel conductivity towards actors?
What is trauma, if we've never seen light outside the E.R.?
What is stability, if our titanic was based upon a see-saw
What is distance, without the stamina to finish the race
What is destiny, if we keep ignoring the concept of space
What is context, if we've never wandered past the box
What is sex, if the appeal never felt the warmth of sparks
I've seen disaster, and my first hand whimpered to the carnage
I've felt the magic, and succumbed with prayers to it's homage
I've held hate to find respect inside the arrogance of the devils smirk
I've rebelled with immortality as though I payed for its worth
I've caressed trauma, living up to it as it was my last dying wish
I've always thought stability depended on how hard the fist hit
I've been taught to listen from a distance, as to avoid treason
I've kissed destiny, but she was never down for a threesome
I've respected context until I finished reading my first book
I've only had sex, I'm still waiting to see how love looks