these hands
have no answers
these legs
can not walk themselves
towards a solution

the world does not march
to a uniform beat
i am not your roman soldier
i have my own feet

and every day,
a sad story is being told
this is a far cry from freedom
and it is too close to the cold

i have been lost and i have been found
and at twenty nine years
i am still around
i have been lost and i have been here and there

backing off, backing away
whilst i have slept at night
a hand,
has held me tight

when you get to know me
you will see,
that you cannot make pieces fit

a problem on my mind
making love,
or making time

speak from the heart
it is the only way

Does Not Seem Right it does not seem right i cannot even go out for one night without a barrage … More

freedom is suppressed
how do we laugh?
from the crooked podium
to the streets of iraq