Meek and feeble,
It's locked up without choice.
Over there, Paranoia reigns king.
Face to Face,
My forlorn voice,
Fails to keep up the pace.
Over there, frustration is mounting.
But with pen and paper,
My voice rings loud and clear.
Here, perhaps I too can be a king.
Many have passed,
But only now revelation appears:
Here, my voice is not afraid to sing.