There was talk of a city
where if you fell, they all felt pity
and flowers bloomed so pretty
Everything was perfect,
everyone loved it.

Then there were kings
Princes of the human will, strings.
the human mind lost its wings
bowing to pointless rules for the sake of peace
but whose peace exactly?

if the truth sets as free,
then why are liars most at ease?
is there need to constantly be on our knees,
or do the rules need to break?
even just for a day