Victim, of my own choices
Caught, in a tight corner
With my back to the wall
All I hear is noise

I set my sight far on China
abacus counting; without confusion
But they're mostly short sighted
and that's no delusion

Heard about the Hong Kong march
but didn't recall till I'd seen what I saw
So I did what I did, now I understood
what I could, with Confucius

Never take a pen to a pig
nor your litter to the swine
for one, H one N one
Can I get myself the Canadian kind?

Import... extort, not for the canola  
nor the coals down under
If I'm selling what I stole from selling Inuit
like the forty thieves and Ali's plunder

How many men can stand as tall
without writing Graffiti on the Great Wall
that they built, that's psychopathic
for the people, by the people, the Great Republic

the shadow in the light on the wall looks like the shadow of a face I barely recognize at all

you stand so tall as you watch me fall

I find myself in the same place and seeing the same face that I tried to come to ignore

but what for?

when will we break through the mirror?

why can you see the parts that be that I did not even know were me?

will we turn our backs against the wall and hold on so we do not fall?

I cannot look at you for a long time
I avoid the recognition of your eyes
me in you and you in I
a distant air
a broken rhyme

I know who you are.

there’s a loss of lasting joy
in life
there’s a wall…

you know, you’ve been in my thoughts
when it snows i see you wandering along interstate 88
or alone in your bed, sitting up, legs crossed
eyes closed

living in the past
while waiting for sleep

We all friends in Earth's society
No reason to start quaking
The Society of Friends are friends
The Quakers aren't shaking

No Quaking in Rome?
Nor the Sistine Chapel?
Black smoke, White Hope
White smoke, Black Pope

Does this seem dope? Just wait,
White State, Black Faith
Black State, White Fate
The impossible a possibility and a dope bomb

Start with a Quake, make a Quaker
If its a shake, make a shaker
Where's his taker of notes
penned at the Apostolic Nunciature

He heard a friend tell a friend's friend
Its getting late; confess your faith
If you ain't straight, you'll be left by the gate
near the wall with the writing

No thunder nor lightning
while I AM walking and all
In the city of the Monk
Graffiti: Writing on the Wall

There as I sat it spoke to me,
   this wall of asymmetric cracks.
Its faded, soaked cement remained.
   Its light red bricks answered back.
Past these chips of aged white
   the blue sky hung with wispy cloud.
A distant bird with creeping weeds
   through ancient windows spoke aloud.
Here light enfolds these steps of prayer
   where new fresh grass is listening.
The hedges kept with varied plants
   in waving breezes are glistening.
This ruined wall tells its story
   of faded asymmetric glory.

You said you've lost a lot of things (and people)
Well I might be one of them did I?

Look at this great wall  that we have build between us right now
It's seperating two human beings
That were suppose to be together

All this time
I'm still here
At the same place when you drown away our hopes and dreams
Sinking in the deep sea trough of loyality

We both know how to reach each other
I guest we chose not to
In the end we just want to respect our destiny
Waiting until the time has come
And let them lead us to meet each other once more

Happy ending for us