Take to the skies, your leader dreams, limit the attitudes
That weigh you down for, remember, punishment is grounding
On what stone you find purchase,
Know your head may float on−
Anything you want today figures in dollars and sense,
For crimes unknown between me and Adam,
Anything you want tomorrow, by God, is recompense;
Till the earth from whence you came−
Sanity and health are luxuries to the virtual yeoman
Who wishes day after day to see those legs rise,
One after the other, fancies of make−believe clash with
Laws of take−believe, of grit and wealth−
They say, live happy, make your destination,
Your goals, your strength, your perseverance
To really think success off
The table of what you can achieve
And place more stock in the invisible hands that
Usher a wretch like me−
Teamwork, the qualitative change needed to quit a pride
No words can succeed to encase,
Focuses its hatred when given positive chance
(But never can quite dull the edge of self−worth)
Your victories today are given answer: limit
Love to fullest soar, my actions, my purpose
Of leader−effort greatly cherish
What all the Haves deem mine−
Let not sin color your pay,
For they know best; slaves dare not reach
Beyond what they imagine we celebrate
Strung aligned by ebbs and flows
Of mankind’s cold regard
And, in humbled separation, find we move together−
This life we do determine to be endlessly new,
110% unreal work, supernatural labor,
Why wait for the ineffable dreams, the !!! dreams,
When they are nothing but a hurtful difference,
Hard to give up, hard to ring true−
Every person, me, you, suffice, surfeit on discipline,
Put, now, what priorities they’ve found better
Toward the hard line of the bottom,
The earth, quick with clouds pitch
Cooling the heads as the cores explode
Every winter, a winner opportunity
As raging ice and hellfire forests
Dot the mountains called I−
The successful follow those who’ve achieve
Those leader dreams, the calmly rational, the spoken articulate
To its first day of life after disaster−
I’m doing time, wasting mine at the boss’ door:
Expect to keep your passions in the heart,
And off those tired, sordid fingertips.