So I want say I love it,
But my heart does not allow for that entry.
You see, we are faced with this world where opinions have lives, emotions;
Where opinions walk the streets. Ours at night, and theirs during the day.

Theirs being those books and suits,
Theirs being those up high with eyes staring at them,
Those who make the books, and those who write them,
Those who point a finger causing knees to be dragged down by gravity,
Those who we call our leaders.

Theirs walk the streets during the day for they are in "control"
They have the grip on a nation for they fight, with fear as a weapon,
They come in great big numbers so we can t object,
We can't object during the day.

But at night when our faces can't be seen,
At night when the moonlight shows a narrow path, we come out,
At night our opinions may rule the word.

Ours may take over, and free those knees from gravity,
Ours may paint the streets with rainbows instead of death,
And turn those bricks of white, yellow,
At night ours may create a place, peaceful, and happy.

Ignoring the small amount of light the moon provides,
Ignoring the gloomy look these uniform houses have,
And out of sight from the death suits,
Yes then we rule the world, at night.

But only at night,
So 12 hours after the party has started we retreat,
We retreat to our houses and pretend to wake up to a brand new day,
To a brand new day in which our freedom has become undone,
And brand new day in which again, we have to look at those high up,
And we have to weaken our legs, relax them, and go on our knees,
For during the day, it's their opinion which matters...