freedom of expression

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Give in to the nrom, What's the harm in that? A good little robot Trained to think like them. Not for me. I'm breaking out, a runaway, Trying to be who I really am. The road will be harsh,
A simple note, Played on worn piano keys A paint brush,  Painting wet soaked leaves   Note after note, The music from your soul, Music makes them whole   Paint and a brush,
She breathes into me Like a gentle wind On a hot summers day. She feeds me all I need And gives me all I like. Filled with such a beauty, I am never alone. For words and writings,
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