Taking a mystical stance on this road to freedom.

When I’m confronted with the blindside,

Suffering from false pride,

Third eye opens wide.

Liquid pools of bliss.

Following the ancient thought,

Thoth if you truly taught,

Scribe for the ages,

The Goddess misbehavin’,

But shedding her truth to the world.

The masculine metaphor of righteous path and folklore relinquishes the damage and despair.

Ridding souls of dwelling scars, learning histories of soulmate broken promise and mistakes,

Lies for the cover-up…

And we wait…

In the mist of confession we wane, we blame, and we bend the rules.

All the while, we look for refuge in inner city bedroom blues.

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