PoetryDarkArt

Stase in uterus of earth. Pickled in earth puke. Floating. Flushed human existence. Flown out self. A soul juice cocktail, a tannic panic - yearning for a trip through time and space, a jump into Elsewhere, But-Not-Here-Where, anyway Nowhere... Desperately waiting for what he´s been told: A body gets old, then dead, then cold.

Guarded you won’t know The world’s only a prison And your freedom’s Such a rare luck You will never think with a free mind Unless you’re not casted out The politics and religions Keeping you inside Maybe good that you won’t know It wouldn’t set you free This consciousness feels just like Flying above the flames You’re only thinking more And more, and more How you’re against this world So many places you’d be killed On our wild planet Earth Glad that you're still alive You couldn’t ask for more Your freedom is to live your life In accordance with your soul No guarantee that you will get What hasn’t been given to you The prison’s guarded carefully By the criminals outside