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 Posted: Fri Dec 7th, 2007 09:53 pm
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lostsocks
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Joined: Sun Jun 11th, 2006
Location: Cambridge, United Kingdom
Posts: 226
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There was a time,
or so it seems
When we were told to chase our dreams

To hunt them without mercy
And fight them without rest
To bring them bleeding, choking,

So We could have the best

But time it has grown tired
of this old fashioned fetter
They've gone and found a new way, a way to dream much better

They farm them in a factory,
Bleed them without pain
Then they sell them back to us
wrapped in cellophane

They lied to us, our elders, about this mythic catch
For the man to Vision ratio
simply doesn't match

They say when god closes a door he opens a window...

Take the door.

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