For the first time in a long time. I've not really edited it and wrote it in notepad and I've not checked for errors yet.
Once I was a boy I would play, there were no barricades.
No duty for a cannonade, the cannons seemed forever away.
Never I thought a cannon should need to stay, for today.
Yet as I grew the builders threw: a barricade in the way.
It was the voice of the shrew, the breaking news of day.
The lack of conceptions around me, replaced with: "Obey."
Forever did it seem that I could no longer play my games.
Yet as I grew more it wasn't just the games I'd play -
it was the life I couldn't live, because life was given away.
Given to the greater good of a life unable to concieve his claim.
The forever potent and great have been today exchanged
in a sea of lies to leave the good as the primary blame.
To demand more sacrafices for the sacrafices they made.
With every single person seeming lost in a mystic daze -
I can't blame those who leave what is great to run away.
For nothing is great if it gives them some time of day.
No amount of creation is worth the new type of exchange:
A value earned, a value given: to give the good away.
No value is valuable when it lands in the hands I name!
It is the beaten and broken that I'm told can claim
the greatness of my life to blunder, abolish, and drain.
