Running Songs

It is in every breath you take,
the shifting light being born.
Pure only in the ways that you imagine
that a life of lie could be.
The frigid breeze you make,
with words full of unspoken scorn.

I could stand here and pretend,
imagine my soul as light
and free
and content
born to be lifted
Above petty sight and being your personal blight.
Free to roam these streets alone.
Free to be who I was born to be.
No longer afraid of what it means,
to be free of the malcontent of your lies.

The problem of choice is that we choose,
we choose to be what we be.
We cry and die to simple amplify our lie.

Yes, it is pitiful but it is who we are.
To deny ourselves ourself would be inhuman,
but is it what we need to be free?
To see ourselves as much as we are.
That all consuming lie we sell
at the corner markets of our soul.
Ringing bells.

To run free forever on this breeze,
that is where I will be.
To never be brought down by your negative conviction,
the lies you spun to being disorder,
the lies you sowed to let blossom into little birdies.
That sing, sing the one song you know.
You.