Freedom, that glorious principle Men live for it, as they die for it Freedom means many things, each unique to the thinker Freedom to speak, to write, to faith
What is freedom to me? Freedom is standing at the mouth of an abyss Staring into hell, choosing my path Freedom is the wind at my back, the rain on my skin A storm, reigning over the world
Freedom is the choice Freedom is all of the choices To choose, it is mans greatest gift That which separates us from the wild
Freedom is thinking before you speak And speaking before you think It is a contradiction, a confusion The right to not make sense
What is freedom? Freedom is me Freedom is you Freedom is us. And us, my friends, us is a wonderful thing