I like my legs and feet, to walk, to see the trees and lake, no flowers then, they point the bloody gun, but never am I undone, never a machine, I still move with passion, forward run. Your friends cheer you to freedom and transformation, We can work it out or die trying, perhaps the summer of love, the end of factories and behavioral schools, and I wonder if progress just shreds numbers. Suddenly the dark tower falls with a land of goodness moving into Utopian vision of humanity.