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