478 – Facing the sun

Your mind in not for rent
To any god or government.
Nice words, my friend,
But you’re no Tom Sawyer.

Music loud in your ears,
Bourbon raw in your throat.
Blending quietly into grimy walls,
Where’d your mean, mean stride go?

Living in the background,
An invisible ghost.
Keeps you out of trouble
While is sucks your soul.

It’s not your problem,
If the whole world burns.
Everyone knows raised heads
Are the ones that get chopped.

Listen to that nagging voice.
Break chains, be wild, make love!
They’ll chase you, hate you, burn you…
But wouldn’t you rather die
facing the sun?