Highway


In the heat of the night, the cool of the day,
The comfort in fright, and the stillness of your sway,
The war was won thanks to the pacifist's play,
And you can see the slaves ride the King's Highway.

"We're free!" they exclaimed as their shackles grew tighter,
Whipping the backs of their own made the future seem brighter,
They believe in the honesty of becoming great liars,
Praying to the molten moon above to cleanse them in fire.

The frigid flames froze the so called freed folk,
Their screams of pleasure obliterated any chance of hope,
The oxymoronic veil of perception has been broke,
And for once, the enlightened voice of reality spoke.

"Who are you, who am I?" He so humbly asked,
"Is the concept of our correlation so hard to grasp?"
"It was you and I both who made it this far,
Hand in mine, mine in yours, though we may be worlds apart."

Reality's wisdom pierced the people's fate with promise,
All had seemed lost, but he has helped them find it,
With sharp minds, soft hearts, and strong hands they ride it,
All day long on the King's Highway.

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