|picture source: https://www.pinterest.com/pin/375909900122342322/|
Free choice is in a far-away place, in a town without a name,
where, clouded in obscurity and the shadows of the mountain,
you can rinse your vision with each breath of the mist
that drifts through the valley to greet your soul,
you're electrified by its invisible touch.
Then wash your wounds with the salted waters that rolls,
it's ancient words washing you closer to the edge of freedom,
so cease your struggle, don’t burn your spirit with tethers intended to tie you to the ground,
‘cause that’s just not the way to go for those who're meant to fly.