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Water Doesnât care where its running.
It moves over what itâs given.
Roads are always black,
while their rules are always white.
A million arrows to a million paths.
Systems within systems weâve 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 weâre 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 donât answer my choices with questions.
Donât Answer my choices with questions!
Donât Answer my choices with questions!
Donât Answer my choices with questions!
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