Freedom is merely the unseen
a bag of chips
and a tank of gasoline
locking myself in the dining room
and writing a letter to the queen
getting clean
from a psychotropic TV screen
putting on airs
and running against the wind
spinning 'til my face turns green
men who need roses and time machines
and peeling the rind off a tangerine
Nov 10, 2013
Nov 10, 2013 at 11:54 PM UTC
Freedom is merely the unseen
a bag of chips
and a tank of gasoline
locking myself in the dining room
and writing a letter to the queen
getting clean
from a psychotropic TV screen
putting on airs
and running against the wind
spinning 'til my face turns green
men who need roses and time machines
and peeling the rind off a tangerine
Request permission to use this poem