I wonder what is the purpose when the same results always resurface.
I am still here, under all of this refurbish.
Who am I really kidding?
A question I ask myself as I sit through this friendly sunday service.
I will not make a pledge and I will not take a vow, to this war machine that our masses allow.
I transpire visions of a free coexistant world.
The freedom to be or the choice to not become.
My freedom to dream was merely a dream.
There isnt a freedom of choice and there isnt a life outside of the machine, but our own will exists to let live or to let die.
I was born of free will and my death shall rest on my own hands.