Whose head is this ?

This place is circumscribed by bars of great heights and boundless thoughts of great energy .

If i could climb to the top , I think then I would be free by the opinions of many .
But I am stuck in this madness all thinking
a mud of emotion that entangles my movement even when I'm singing .
 Whose head is this that shields me from salvation?
A room clouded by a climate of confusion and guided by a mouth skilled at deception

We ought to call different things differently , don't we ?
So what makes you an expert at labelling my desires when you don't even know me .
Love is  not acting out your feelings or expressing what's within in your language .
It's about a secret place you and me share
It's about having an invisible organ only  you and me share
It's about a hope of living eternally imprinted in our heads .
So tell me . Whose head is yours ?
You have nothing of mine .