I am the machine in the In-between
The worlds that we know and know not.
And while my heart beats to the song that fleets
Its purpose is never forgot.

With ink as my blood, I pour out the flood
Of thoughts we've all wanted to share.
With blood as my ink, I've only to think
What we want to say, I must dare.

With the quill, my arm, I've grown quite alarm,
To voice out all that needs to be.
With the arm, my quill, with my strength, my will--
I'll sing Freedom for you and me

My gears shift and turn, with hard truths we learn,
The tale of corruption and vise.
Yet we did not yield, but took sword and shield
And fought for our reason to rise!

With the heart of man, I'll stick to the plan,
And shrug off the joy of release.
With quill on each end, I'll twist and I'll bend
And shoulder the burden of peace.

Now I'm stuck in place, now I'll be the face,
The one that says the unspoken
The thoughts unexpressed, I'll write with no rest.
To repair this world that is broken.

With ink and with quill, with passion and will,
I'll fix the grotesque and obscene.
With blood iron hand; I'll write for I am--
The machine in the in-between.