Todo se arma para dejarme libre,
Feed the birds,
Feed your dreams,
Feed the predictions you see,

It's fun:ny, almost hylarious,
How i see the marks and how i see the propertis to manage everything,

Isn't sad? That way i cannot find a challenge, i become more and more careless, more and more sick,
And althrough all,
I still feel the same,
I'm living more, moving more,
Making myself a shore of free being,
Of choices.
But i still have the inner feeling,
That there's no reason, no meaning,
Then my only way out,
Is to learn to live with that.