The Faux Pas Press #67

The Faux Pas Press #67

23 October 2010

By Jason Fresh

Break These Chains

Always searching for what I can hold,
walking the streets of the city to fit some mold,
dressing up nice and wearing the clothes of the norm,
I begin to dance and see I don’t that form.

I want to run.
I want to feel.
I want to break these chains and make it real.

I won’t delay or carry a load.
I’d rather walk a dirty road.
I’m in the Fold in Fabric of Night.
How could I be wrong when I feel so right?

Come on girl and grab my hand.
I’ll take you to the Promised Land.
Oh, baby, let’s break these chains,
Break these chains.

Leave a job building cities for the Man.
Leave a death plot he’s spun with a master plan.
Put on your self and your giddy dancing shoes.
Put on your night dress, Honey.
Let’s go drink some booze.

I want to run.
I want to feel.
I want to break these chains and make it real.

I won’t delay or carry a load.
I’d rather walk a dirty road.
I’m in the Fold in Fabric of Night.
How could I be wrong when I feel so right?

Come on girl and grab my hand.
I’ll take you to the Promised Land.
Oh, baby, let’s break these chains,
Break these chains.

I want to run.
I want to feel.
I want to break these chains and make it real.

I won’t delay or carry a load.
I’d rather walk a dirty road.
I’m in the Fold in Fabric of Night.
How could I be wrong when I feel so right?

Come on girl and grab my hand.
I’ll take you to the Promised Land.
Oh, baby, let’s break these chains,
Break these chains.