As this locomotive coasts down the track, I consider all things relative. The stories seldom told, the lies that reprise, and the constitution that is altered in everyone’s narrow mind. Ah! The ability to control the push and pull of what is and what could never be. On the contrary, I mingle with those who boldly exclaim the theory of you and me, what is and isn’t true, the black and white of blue, the good in the bad of sad. A justification is not too far to foresee.
Imagine a land so green and pristine floating by your vision of integrity. If this land is your land then I ask for this moment for it to be mine. I eagerly await the countryside; the land that was and now is. The past and present illustrated in front of your eyes. The country homes will remain, but how can one stand to be easily irked by the smoke that pollutes a vanishing horizon. Like a drunken man being too bold and rude in his accusations; the industrial state claims the air and refuses to repent for what is at stake.
I wish I could figuratively know just how far and much I have grown. I miss my past encounters with the people who have no name. As if I could be a child opening a closet reaching to play that particular game. I can say that I have strengthened the unity between you and me. A yearn for progression beyond anyone’s comprehension. The man who sits in the field day dreaming is equally as capable of fighting a battle of dragons and demons but I reckon he will simply pick the other extreme. I push for policy but I compromise for pain.
Who would have thought I would have seen you again. It is tough being that man full of dreams hoping his means won’t result in the pain he bleeds. I've been doped, sucked into the lyrics of a song that extorts a melancholy message that turns me into a fool. Should I be the one to ponder if these facts of you are true? I discovered myself in a foreign place of familiarity to get on what knowledge I thought I knew. Someone told me the spy lies. I needent to refuse my fickle abuse and so, I stopped by.
I can relate to the mate who rejected the mass production of inequality. In a simple town engulfed in the rolling hills, this man stands still.
Sitting in perplexity, not blue like the sea but rather a murky brown that leaves you questioning its toxicity. It’s funny how many of them need to digitally confirm their bureaucracy.
I thank the men who build up and away to restore a pleasant form with the intent to respect the forgotten status quo. Such an infrastructure of earth’s rock that exceeds from below! I wish what I knew could be so strong and old. Perhaps then, no one would try to crumble me down. It would be in your best interest to turn me on to the old times. Play my mind in 4/3 rhyme.
