Spoken Word
Lyrics
By now he was hypnotized by the feverish pace of his wiper blades,which are frantically working to clear his view.
They arent working fast enough.
He looks in the mirror and looks at himself like a lost traveller would stare at a road map.
These thoughts have been sprouting for years,like grass tries to grow out of the cracks in the sidewalk,only to be stepped on.
Once in a while though,a weed gets through.
One morning while dressing for work he realized he was doing his tie up a little tighter everyday.He couldnt breathe anymore.
He had had enough.
He wonders why he had the dreams he did.Was his mind creating this utopia as a means for him to escape?
Or was he awake at night and having nightmares during the day?
Tonight was the night he was going to find out.
Freedon's not something you hope for
Freedom's is something you choose.
He drives home confident he has the answer.
It will be morning soon.He must sleep.