end of june and mercury in retrograde, not sure what's on this page, not sure why i keep kickin', not sure why i'm lickin' stamps in a post office sans renegade, watch the memories fade while the freeway goes on by without a thought, i'm self-serving-- meanwhile we're all trapped in bodies, those dark voices getting louder, there's terror asunder! it's reachin' out with its desert hand, while we lookin' to serve some righteous man. i'm sort of like a postman, you can get the message if you want to understand, we all need outlets to plug in, the darkness coming thru on this facebook mic stand-- they act like cockroaches running around since genesis, creeping up through the crevices, we all know who the menace is-- know your enemy. it's been said to me that there's no such thing as free. i can't deny it, can't even supply it if you try it, what's it mean to live free?