Puppets - March 2006

So in this age, it seems apathy reigns,
As all the rest, I feel I'm just the same.
A bleating lamb, to follow in the pack,
Still blending in although I may be black.

And when your near, I judge myself so much,
And then I fear, my input is of no use...

Now for a while, I felt I'd broke away,
Eating of the sweet grass, instead of hay.
But once a look around, will yet reveal,
This shackled ball, and chain around my heel.

I could read and memorize, until my eyes fall out,
But this time, it's the doing that it's all about...

And led we are, by puppets on a string,
To the belly of a wolf, by our next of kin.
And one attempt, at living on the edge,
Will send these shepherds, into a fit of rage.

Box em' in beat em' down, put em' in a cage,
Any necessary means, whatever it takes to save face...

It's in movement cross the land, where I feel most real,
But it seems the only way out, is to stand still.
Up down back and forth, I could run away forever,
I guess the only thing to do, is come to center.

Still when your near, I judge myself so much,
But now I know, my fears are of no use...