Text: Effort. Iconoclasm. Tips And Directions.

While your heart,
sleeps in your chest,
my sleeve is, pounding loud, and thats why, i raise my fist,
because i've got to let, the words come out,
so don't bother singing along if the voice
doesn't come from deep inside your heart because
these words are more than just a song,
they are spark from which a fire should start,
and twenty years ago, i was a little boy,
without of clue of the shifts i could make and i had no idea how to enjoy my own life,
with the roads i would take, and then one day i got a tip while stopping for directions,
he told me, he said "this is it so stop looking for perfection.."
I want more, i want to be the new beat of our generation, lost in my words.
we could ditch the destruction and lead a life of contemplation.
bodhisattvas of the 1950's killed their own convictions, and lost their minds.
...but did we learn from their self annihilation