Freedom heated inside, burning in the crying teardrops, cult like chants drawing me in, struggling to master myself, perhaps it’s because of this world.
Limitations not on account of dogma and its religion, society or peers. I’m happy to converse with the devil, and sell my soul.
I can keep secrets, lover, we’ve got to be blood in and blood out. Freedom exists elsewhere and finally I’ve transcendent.
(knowledge variable)