position

if change forces you to carry, cold wind
embrace us with your icy caress
time has become an idol
remember this, before there's nothing left

we've accepted to compromise
with living in shades of grey
screaming, "Our freedom speaks!"
because it seems safest this way

but the echo is too often
that of sweet-tooth, personal demons
who take pride in indecision
and for each one saught, there's one seeking

every one, a marvel by rights
justified by possessions held
but then the lights come on
and we're left to fight against ourselves

awaiting that fabled day
where the sun paints a humble arena
and on a stage of dreams
time stops.


Be real. tha rebel, Kong