We live because we're free.
A people who truly believe.
That love is hard to find.
And to find is to look beetween.
A thin line than runs straight through the middle.
A thin line that can barely be seen.
And when you cross that line
Try to define,
Your own logic,
Never taste defeat.
Which is a feat
Because defeat is a substance that doesn't help.
Only locks away,
The pain you taste, a pain that shouldn't be felt.
A pain that lacks the desire to win.
Consuming you from the line thats hidden within.
The lies disguised as the substance,
An evil within.
Which don't help but  numb the pain.
Of Love never truly felt.
Only ever looked like a game.
With the pieces lining up,
Queen next to King.
But who made the first move?
Thats for you to know.
But before you find out,
You should probably without doubt.
Get away from the substance,
That brings you hurt more than facing the pain.
Find that line that lays in beetween.
No gain without pain.
So just face it and accept a wondeful feat.
Beat the substance.
And fine,
that greater line in beetween.