All of the routes have shown up around you and Your suitcases are packed with The scent of memories permeating the air. You've put on your toughest coat and Nostalgia will not let itself in But, the more you look around and the more you listen to the sounds Being screamed around you The more clearer it becomes that, None of the routes are open for you. None of the routes are open for you. On the road that passed between escapism and development, Someone forgot to tell you that You can't make friends out of open rivers. No matter how translucent the inlet, No matter how unfathomable the depth, No matter how elating the scent, You can carry the stones before they're cast into the waters, But, You will only feel their heaviness, When you are watching them float away from you.