What does it mean to be free?
Could a slave be more free than you or I?
Perhaps we are all slaves
And the extent of our chains prevents us from seeing the wicked truth.
If Hell is other people
If other people judge us
The could a prisoner,
Lost in the heart of a labyrinthine cell
Forgotten by the world
Forgotten by themselves
Could they be more free than you or I?
If freedom, true freedom, and choice go hand in hand
Then what if you made the choice not to be free?
Would that be what they call a paradox?
Does freedom even exist at all?
There is always something
Tying us to the stony ground when all we want to do is to float free in the crystal sky
Rather lonely, don't you think?
Besides, we cannot afford to lose ourselves in Freedom's maze
There sadly exists a chain,
A chain called Responsibility
Who calls us
Who tugs us
Who drags us
But we needn't droop under the weight of our chain
For it does not often bring despair.
We need not weep and withdraw to the lonely confines of our own minds
Instead, we can sing and shout and dance
We sacrifice out freedom for other people
But Hell is other people
Oh the irony!
Did we even get a choice?
But choice and freedom are as phoenix and flame
Oh the irony!
But perhaps, after all, we do not need freedom
perhaps it is a luxury dreamt of so often it appears real
Isn't really there at all.