I am a breath in the wind.
I am the color of within.
I am a foil of the pretender.
I am an echo of the bell in the center.
I am the incarnate of camouflaged ways.
I am an instrument of relentless days.
I am the remembrance of mismatched tones.
I am a free runner but not alone.
I am a collision of what cannot be seen.
I am the beauty of what will begin.
I am an insider, I do not gaze from afar.
And I am because we are.
She has a will, she has a choice.
Now too loud to hear the noise.
All those who never wanted to be.
And all the voices that we see.
Today she drowns in her regrets.
Tomorrow she is silent but will not forget.
There is nothing else to give.
She loses her will to live.
Victim of fear, slave to her plight.
Find your ray of light.
Sound of chanting, ring the liberty bell.
Tears will fall for lady Annabelle.
Sinful pleasure, a painful deceit.
Just the frantic illusion of all we see.
Morning dew, sweeping the soles of our hearts.
Tragic storms, left to take their part.
A little shame, a carcass and dust.
Little lambs, having more than enough.
The odd lines, the random circle.
The lost soul, waiting for a miracle.
Then the masses, waiting for liberty.
Wallowing in the pits of self-pity.