As the leaves breathed relief
upon their fabled flight from trees
I kissed the feet of the former me,
(Or at least the one who bleeds)

For freedom is just a season
that changes with the wind
without a rhyme or reason
unless its a song that we all sing

Only You know your truth
and if your life is being wasted
yet regret is a bitter blade from youth
that most old folk have tasted

but only a coward flees from dreams
and only the lonely are what they seem
yet most slaves forsake faith in change
when its paved the saviours way