The rush of blood the face we placed On every corner on every space We raced to come to terms with life With morality a facade for strife Pointing to the pain as a promise for more Pointing to old books that might restore Dignity and respect for the living While other possibilities are destroyed And the destroyers are forgiven Sweaty palms stomach ulcerated And for the sake of the soon to be liberated Let me explain how real morals are made Not through musty scriptures Not through verses that are immature But through learning and coming to terms with How everyone feels and experiences life different