“The Son Of Socrates”

Years, and years, divided by power and struggle

The anguish that rests in your head

Where can a sinner lie?

The life that was gifted, still left in harm’s way

I never liked the oppressive nature

As the world continues to play favorites

Gratitude of kin, possession of the people that find purpose deep within

This tone that characterizes the words written on a piece of paper

It’s to be shown and told true

The pirates, the chiefs, the boys in blue

Where does resistance lack and fail to hold its end if integrity was something they could never lose?

I’m sick and possibly tired, I suppose

The deathbed made from sheep skin

24 hours in the dark

The jewels are tethered, as they hang above foreign road

Don’t get too close…

Don’t underestimate the power of awareness 

It’s better to listen than it is to show