I have tried to set them free.
I think the problem is: they believe they aren't slaves.
It makes sense, to me.
Imagine you have no idea you're in bondage. Will you try to escape?
They can't see the chains. It's all psychological, of course.
I suppose they like it. It doesn't even seem like humiliation when you're getting paid as much as they are. Also, there's the perks.
And at least they have the illusion of freedom. It's probably very comforting. I can't say it appeals to me.
They may even feel important. It's a vocation, after all.
Did someone tell them they were making a difference? Ha! Yes, I bet some devil told them that ...
Oh, many years ago ...
They still believe it. How do I know? It's the way they walk, when they should be crawling.
I make an effort ...
They won't thank me for any of this.
Actually, 'they' won't know I'm referring to 'them'.
And I think that's for the best. I don't want them to suffer the way I've suffered. They won't want the awareness.
Freedom, like knowledge, is the cause of much suffering.
With the hardest of words I could give them a taste of my suffering.
It's not for me, the happy 'I', the satisfaction, the peace of mind.
They have it. The sods.
I'm removed. Separate. Alien. Out, and off.
Out, out, out! The stormy sea of reality is where they'll find me - if they ever come looking. Off the chart, in all directions! That's the freedom. And it kills you if you're weak.
I think the problem is: they believe they aren't slaves.
It makes sense, to me.
Imagine you have no idea you're in bondage. Will you try to escape?
They can't see the chains. It's all psychological, of course.
I suppose they like it. It doesn't even seem like humiliation when you're getting paid as much as they are. Also, there's the perks.
And at least they have the illusion of freedom. It's probably very comforting. I can't say it appeals to me.
They may even feel important. It's a vocation, after all.
Did someone tell them they were making a difference? Ha! Yes, I bet some devil told them that ...
Oh, many years ago ...
They still believe it. How do I know? It's the way they walk, when they should be crawling.
I make an effort ...
They won't thank me for any of this.
Actually, 'they' won't know I'm referring to 'them'.
And I think that's for the best. I don't want them to suffer the way I've suffered. They won't want the awareness.
Freedom, like knowledge, is the cause of much suffering.
With the hardest of words I could give them a taste of my suffering.
It's not for me, the happy 'I', the satisfaction, the peace of mind.
They have it. The sods.
I'm removed. Separate. Alien. Out, and off.
Out, out, out! The stormy sea of reality is where they'll find me - if they ever come looking. Off the chart, in all directions! That's the freedom. And it kills you if you're weak.
