Nobody knows...

Nobody knows, the true power of prose,
As we seek to believe, that there's better, to reach,
And the fog, and the gripe, that comes with the types,
The control, as we roll, on to all, that is final,
But never, is final, the truth speaks within us,
Our hearts, that are real, beat beneath iron and steel.
We are, and will be, until finally free.