A fugitive fallen,
Fallen from grace.
Grace meant so little,
yet hoardes so much space.

Recieve freedom from want,
Freedom from fear.
Yet still a fugitive running,
for no freedom's found here.

To realize the finite,
Is the only way.
To realize the eyes,
struggling each passing day.

He finds that to wait,
Is the greatest of key.
For the world is not changing,
instead changing is he.

He can't run for long,
One day he must fight.
A fugitive standing,
Defending man's rights.

The rust of corruption,
Has strengthened their steel.
A chain mail of words to shield them,
their sword of lies Won't stop his feel...

...of the truth in the matter,
Although his soul is in tatters,
his Feel for what's Real will pull ahead of the latter.
For to cease their jaw bone,
is to engulf the throne.
Although their laws are their maws
He may still stop the chatter.

For hope has begun,
and the New Day will dawn.