Where will this take us now?
Is it us who outruly guiding us as we march dramaticly to the next room?
Will it be us who slams the door shut, or will we be boxed in with some automatic door opening and closing as more and more people come right in? Will we move along romanticing every little acomplishment we do, or will we morbidly and silently stubble on as we are poked and proded to keep moving? Will we finally rest as we see fit, or will we be told we have done enough? We all can easily anwser this in a way most people would generaly. We could stubernly and pridefuly declare that nothing shakles and moves us from one feeding trough to the next. We could so easily be just another rebel with a hollow cause that eagerly awaits to rip open the binds of all those around him, and finally take his spot in the limelight of respect and admirition. We can continue to dream and strive to be the philisophical moses of our generation, and lead our fellow brothers and sisters into a time where we all walk at our own pase, we all slam the doors we ourselves opened, and take any path we wish to travel in a way we feel best suits us. We could all be the one to hold on to the chains, or let the cattle go, but all of us are simply black sheep. So again I ask, who? I do not know, but I non the less seek an anwser.
Where will this take us now?

Hitting bedrock in my bedroom
Doom ahead, letting ******* led soon
Boom through my head shred, spread gloom
Fool enticed by his own admission
On a mission to set to fruition
Either nightmare or a dream
Not sure yet if he's **** or cream
But quick to jump on sucker who thinks he's lean.
Fleeing from battle that he seems to have been in.
He thinks he'***** his stride
Pridefuly say, that his opponents just die
Living in a dazzling, sugered up lie
Thinking on a fly about how not to cry
If somebody sly may notice and apply
The logic that he's shrine is not that divine.