Diary of Wanderlust - Crying Out For Freedom

Ages have sown into our skin, a plastic skin hard to burn...
It stinks of feeding maggots and effervescent fluid...
Of a soul that's screaming out for freedom.
As we wait in a drone of silence, pretentiously patient,
The chains of not metal nor iron, resound in our minds, breaking the calm...

The chaos and confusion of the mind, is the one we create,
Is the one we've been used to living in,
There is nothing more to say, there is no hearing of a voice,
There's no freedom of a choice, there is only sacrifice... there is only sacrifice,
And the sacrifice is mine, it's our own choice... so we're crying out for freedom...

Time is ever sentient, forever is shadows of each soul...
Call it the Reaper or whatever you want...
He could be your conscience and your guiding light...
Or seek every revenge sought, for your own demons you belied...
And we cry out for freedom... from ourselves...