Wake up to find out that you are the eyes of the world, but the heart has its beaches, its homeland, and thoughts of its own. Wake now, discover that you are the song that the morning brings, but the heart has its seasons its evenings, and songs of its own

I won't slave for beggar's pay, likewise gold and jewels, but I would slave to learn the way, to sink your ship of fools.

The storyteller makes no choice, soon you will not hear his voice, his job is to shed light, and not to master

Ain't nobody messin' with you but you

Crippled but free, I was blind all the time I was learning to see.

At the top of the cycle you write policies for everybody, no matter how bad, and at the bottom you cancel everybody, no matter how good. It's a manic-depressive cycle.

Poised for flight, Wings spread bright, Spring from night into the Sun.