The Image Of Man
There are stations in my mind,
Of what is said to be "an immoral
Kind, it's a immoral state of
Unknow freedom". and the people
Ask "what is freedom?".
What is freedom, what is life?
The people say "success my child...
That is your freedom, your life". ,
The success, i know, is success of insanity.
Stripping the identity, to please the masses of the consuming blind. and they look at me as if i were death.
Am i your death? death of hate. death of greed. death of the forgetfull soul. yeah, i guess that's me. and the people ask "who are you?". i am me, i said. do you think you can say the same? you proclaim your fame, because that's your face, it makes your name, your fucking pathetic social game. strip the shit. now tell me, what is a human being? a human being... being what? who are you? do you really know? do you even care?