Water Doesn’t care where its running.
It moves over what it’s given.
Roads are always black,
while their rules are always white.
A million arrows to a million paths.
Systems within systems we’ve made with our gifts.
A cell of systems seems all we have left.
And the highest in the chain is what we,
claim to be our right.
Yet we’re guided by two lines and a set of traffic lights.
Keep the safe within their concrete walls,
and clear of all their sins.
Code their days and ways and leave them.
But let me roll down through the canyons,
till i reach the county line,
and don’t answer my choices with questions.