The Movement.

The fanatic rode the snake in his blue bus,

so did the Cobain doped himself so early,

there was no voodoo child left anymore,

because they were involuntarily called by him.

They marched with the freedom of independence,

rode on to any vehicle they could get,

passed on their thoughts to anyone they reached,

left a mark on anyone who called them and was preached.

Stop calling names, those hollow gloomy faces,

instead, realize the deep tranquility of reality, and reach for the inner-visions of the surroundings,

The day when the souls preach the notions and thoughts,

that day his all battles are fought.

With all the leather and strings they fought amongst the mortals,

the words they threw and raged those sleeping machines,

drunk and dressed they brought the stage to a fire,

to rise up against all those who tried to bring down THE movement.