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Freedom Is What It Is Called
Staring blankly into the dark.
Losing reality and all realness.
No longer feeling what is there.
The presence seems so hard and empty.
Truth is I want my world to come.
Come to an end, leaving me lifeless.
Nothing to call my own inside.
These ideas, these thoughts of mine.
I own them steadily losing time.
Stop the breathing inside my soul.
I need to be heard not scarred.
These are my words I own them for they are mine.
Think for me despise me for who I am.
Trap all the secrets behind the masks.
Cut the inside, Smile on the outside.
Now empty the gun of its bullets.
Open the grave and let me lay.
Cover the opening with the dirt.
Pour the blood let the vultures come.
Carry my everything with them as have before.
Freedom that is what it is called.
~*~Kesha~*~
