A man I stand trying to free my style. Looking over this vegetation we call life, Seeing light and wanting to touch it mirages made mechanisms for many to believe but me I just want to me. Not a fad a cloth to be bought or paid on a list with the drift to only land amongst to those just like me. Wanting to free they're style without rebuke. Re boot I tell myself going out into society this sobriety is non existent. Seeing them drunk off the mention of the dull ones in the box labeled world. Speaking! Then screaming! Finding and then believing retrieving then ensuing. Trying to free myself.... and my style from this foul place wild as a mis-placed child.