The Good Men 6 and 45

Life is like being an imaginary tree In a teeming, tangible forest On a pursuit with an invisible grail To no avail our reapings So in doubt, a story is sewed To no avail our teachings Just rebellion of “you must” Plus understanding of youths plow That loosens up and refreshes the soul Exposing establishments rotten roots Slicing and serving the perpetual Planting seeds of ideals peeled Off utopias dream, sprouting from need From release of constant conditioning You’re either dying or you’re new And if innovation must be new Then stagnation is a leach For a tree is known for it’s fruit Not for how far branches reach So pick when ripe and before you blink More will be surely bore from new Ripe or rotten? Good or bad? Well, that’s up to you