Write these words and sing the verse,
Rhyme the lines of thoughts of mine.
But written, rhymed, sung and meant,
Shan't bring to me, cant make content.
And wish they would for easy that,
Whilst in my mind thoughts react.
Dreams of more, for what, what for?
But how many true, and how many trapped.
As I mean to make ideals a future,
And try I shall but 'gainst my nature,
To stand up, shout and draw the focus.
Rather sit in quiet, with thoughts that choke us,
And suffer in my mind the thoughts,
That imply what's not, what's born of doubts.
