Freedom of will,
At least on where to fit,
Inside of the present box
From your neighborhood block.
You’re cut from the cloth,
Of your father, and mother’s from before.
Their barren streets of shame,
Now your platform, sterile and benign,
Ready for a new life to decay.
No, look for an escape,
Don’t let it rot your dreams,
Embrace a new way,
Choose a new kind of day.