Surrender, surrender. Defeated before it began, freedom is make believe, lesson learned, you can’t fight for peace, the words fight and peace should never be in the same sentence. Just like the words hate and love. So we surrender, no choice, the sword is mightier than compassion, so I raise my had, and my soul escapes through my finger tips, and settles where the trickle down effects stops, right above the heads of the Third World peasants, seven feet up, seven feet down, that’s the poverty line, a giant left with his soul sitting on top his afro hairstyle, a spiritual man with freedom at the tips of his dreadlocks. Lets have freedom so we will never have peace.