Floating above

I am floating above

All that rests below is not touched upon

So strange is my island

Where warped ideas have become the norm

To do is to become

Yet I do not do and I do not become

The future, ah the future

Such a wraith that refuses to be grasped

But still I am working

My hands are blistered from shoveling

When I reach the horizon

Freedom will be seized with strong arms

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