Through The Door, Where Dreams Implore, Leaving Questions Asking More

Leaving The Familiar Door Behind In My Dreaming Mind

In the state of this psychosis,

Spin like watching the whip cream fill the top of the rim,

Sugar drops make rain meteor moon rock.

"It's delightful," says the Martian man,

Once you try the Milky Way sky, it's the best flavor, that galactic high.

I now float around, just drifting like a bag in the wind that's free.

No more oxygen to charge, like when your tire needs air,

The machine doesn't care; you now have to pay a toll everywhere.

It's a disgusting thought, but it's all around – money, money for freedom,

But no real freedom to be found.

How could I have missed it?

This blank check, just sign the amount you want,

And we will make you forget.

Light a toke, get a poke, crack a smile, and lose your hope.

These designs and so-called billboards of fun paint a pretty picture,

But once you buy it, you lose a piece of your soul,

Piece by piece you slowly whittle away.

Says the heart attack from eating too much greed today,

Gluttons and drunks, but not just drunk on wine,

No, drunk on Ill fortune deeds – it's the evil seed.

But yet we still allow it to sprout, we just changed its name,

It's now called clout.

Most can't see, but this message is for the ones who do:

Wake up, your spirit, start going the other way,

Let go, let go, you hear the voice, but yet you still don't obey.

It's hard once you have clung to everything that you never really needed to be free.

You pay for the ten dollar water, believing it's going to wash away the wrinkles on your skin.

You just keep getting fooled, or do I need to spell it out again?

It's so simple, a five-year-old could comprehend.

You see, I'm very different, this much I know,

But at least, I'm authentic.

Not like that Gucci you wear or the same broken songs on the radio air.

No, I'm me, the real me, I'm free.

Like all I needed was that rinse from the real water that comes from the sky.

No more watching people break down, can't even afford to pay for the overcharged air,

Even to fill their tires on the car.

It's sad, it sickens me. Is this how low we have become,

Everyone frowning upon others as if they're more higher than the sun.

No, there are the ones who understand my free mind.

I'm a thinker, I'm a creator, I'm a real person of interest.

I'm sure my mind has the CIA on the lookout,

As if I'm the one being watched.

What because I now learned how to be free with my thoughts?