​Venting to vent. 

Must you follow what the culture deems truth worthy?

Roll down hills green and fairly grown

Out amongst sick hearted teachers and believers 

Rest not, confuse not

I am your guide now

Control you cannot 

Worry you must not

You must not worry

You mustn’t cry

Soon the shackles will break

Soon the tide will wash us back

Back to more hopeful primitive logic

Stones beneath you will melt

Sky above you will open up wide

Wider than you have ever, ever

Gazed upon 


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