Have we put all of our eggs in one basket?
So all our eggs can be taken away?
Domestic living is the final boss racket
What’s it mean to be wild, anyway? 

Keeping our eggs among our mates
Most our eggs will be saved
So I say, let’s clean our slates
And cease to be enslaved

By the systems we now carry
No one can do it alone
Is my neighbor really that scary?
Shall we gather to atone?

“Living free” is what wild means
Taking and giving, harmoniously
Sometimes seeing scary scenes
but mostly living melodiously

When did we give it up?
When was my choice given?
I hate to bring it up
But why is it we’re “driven”?

Just like the old mom saying
I gave you life I can take it away
The thing is we are all paying
With no other choice, but to stay. 

“Societies never know it, but the war of an artist with his society is a lover's war, and he does, at his best, what lovers do, which is to reveal the beloved to himself and, with that revelation, to make freedom real." James Baldwin

The role of the artist is exactly the same as the role of the lover. If I love you, I have to make you conscious of the things you don’t see.” James Baldwin.