The rock tumbles
Up the hill
Everyone has a purpose
A life to fulfill
Some don’t believe it
Just turn themselves around
Others don’t know
A life to be found
They become fools
Men of mystery
Realizing nothing
Only written history
Serving their rituals
Every single day
Looking at everything
In only one way
Their minds covered
Continually deceived
Waiting for the moment
A time to be freed
Leading the confusion
Dividing the hate
Looking in the past
Sealing a fate
Joey Nissen
http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/self-titled-album/
