Precarious

Freedom is such a dangerous thing
How I long to abuse it

To rid myself of my sense of freedom
Trapped inside my room
I think my thoughts can take me wherever I dream

Anxiety has run my head backwards for so long

An empty room with a pad of paper
That is freedom?

A nice day to move about town
That is freedom?

A cardboard box in the corner of a dark, rainy alley
That is freedom?

A bus ticket to California
Am I free yet?