we shift in our concreat tombs, sun burns and yet another day greets the zombied masses. shuffling feet onto another highway congesting the morning. we slave over and over, rising to the top, only to meet another bottom. hearded and fed like cattle, branded and marketed for the highest bidder. only after we give our last bit of self do we go home. so i say don't be a sheep, no, be a wolf, or a bird, or a lion. greet the day as if it was your last.

what happend to frequency?