Who is the one to do things right,
Who has the perfect future's sight
And who has will to gain these ?
Those ones who have - stand by now, please.
No one believes he can be wrong
Like weakling dreams that he is strong,
Like loony states that he's all right -
Just all the others aren't bright.
Like that it's normal to believe
That lonely men are always stiff,
Divorced women are the stinkers …
Yet all of us considered thinkers.
Oh man, it's common to believe
That death is the eternal grief,
That life is such an endless race
With wildly rising-dropping pace,
That one should never be alone,
That happy days already gone,
And world will never be all right -
Cause all the others aren't bright.
And it's all known we possess
The right to make some constant mess,
We call it "freedom" by the way...
That inborn right to fray and pray.
I just won't say that these are wrongs …
The hundred times it's sung in songs,
The thousand times it's told by lives
Of common folk who were just wise.
I cannot say that they were right,
For modern us they don't seem bright,
Still they did not posses believes
That are the source of endless grief.
The one I call the truly wise
Is that who has no prejudice,
The one who has the clear sight,
For only he will make things right.
One day you'll act as you see fit
And thus refuse some other's bid
To make it way it ought to be,
And once you've made it - you are free.
