The Movement.

The fanatic rode the snake in his blue bus,

so did the cobain doped himself so early,

there was no voodoo child left anymore,

because they were involuntarily called by him.

They marched with the freedom of independence,

rode on to any vehicle they could get,

passed on their thoughts to anyone they reached,

left a mark on anyone who called them and were preached,

stop calling names, those hollow gloomy faces,

instead realise the deep tranquility of reality,and reach for the inner-visions of the sorroundings,

The day when the souls preach the notions and thoughts,

that day his all battles are fought.

with all the leather and strings they fought amongst the mortals,

the words they threw and raged those sleeping machines,

drunk and dressed they brought the stage to a fire,

to rise up against all those who tried to bring down THE movement......

Activated Passive Realizations

False hopes, smile sorries, no sorry figures,

You raise the toast and the journey begins

Cradling your way down to the time,

We re-arrange what we had made over

Slimmed erosions of the happy hours,

You ride with YOU lonely in those cold showers,

Clueless, as to what may be next possibilities,

Before that could happen, you refill the dying potion

Humming alone down the streets, blowing the smokes,

Trying to get rid of the haunting ghosts

Nothing left to gift to, or to give up,

All that has been, or will be is the YOU, and you will shut up,

Ashes, smokes, rings of fires, stirs in you a desire,

That was it meant to be, time to light another FIRE.