Waking up from all magnetic delusions,
Hitting down, hitting down, hitting down,
Putting the wicked songs to play in,
Into the freedom, into the freedom, into the freedom...
Playing with the funky moments like weary dolls...
Waking into all hopeless streams
By rolling into a deep articulation
Of desserted hearts, moaning like monks...
The villages do present the soul crying,
The sky does present the soul realization
Of the shaken apartments
In which the free spirits do come forward
At the end of the awakened tied up situations
Waiting to be elicited...
:)
:)
:)
:)
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