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