Detour home

From point A to B 

All love becomes pain

Returning to its creation

It's root

The pain of with and without

If you follow that line 

Long enough

And are of the few, lucky enough 

To be oppressed by the gravity of time

You'll find that in every society

Bullets eventually become currency 

And witness firsthand 

The instincts of man can only be suppressed

Within A and B so long 

Until we're overwhelmed by needs 

To hunt and gather 

To sow seeds 

Of virtue and destruction 

To be freed from the cages of thought

By the dirt under our nails 

And smiles 

Finally 

That can't be bought

To right wrongs 

Of love and pain 

Cubicle enclosures 

And real chains that disguise their weight

Lighter than the paper that enslaves

Heavier than the burden of the debt 

From a deal we never made 

You'll see the currency changed

And exchanged

In rapid fire

Master made slave