But I’m so bored,
And you’re so smart.
If only I could agree,
with the concepts of reality.
Society gives me the procedure,
outlines the right way so precise.
The measurement lies in its own perfection,
its every millimeter pointing in the right direction.
But your lifestyle is not for me,
For I was born for air, and for the open sea.
Nothing is what it seems on the surface.
Life has its waves, and I’m ready to face each.
My confidence has grown, so I am not afraid.
You teach, and follow each regulation,
Your authority stands with its glowing elation.
But I was not born for rules or guiding principle,
Neither were you, at some point in time.
You lost your way, you got out of line.
But who was it who first drew, this line we may not cross?
Who decides who is subordinate, and who is boss?
It is all about expectations, and where we’re headed next.
There is no excitement, no unknown, nothing complex.
Step by step, we build up our lives for everyday work.
Another suit on the street, another set of lines lay uncrossed.
Another lesser soul, another higher boss.
Everything is flawed, but everybody’s right.
Because we’re so stubborn to our own fault,
Our own initiative questioned, our steps at halt.
We send out an army, we call in the troops,
we shout out defenses for being accused.
But what is so wrong with being wrong?