I'm a loner, I know.
I love, and then I go
down the fabled dusty road,
with a broken pair of shoes,
knowing the dead ends, but
seeking the journey.
Many a mistress, but
only one love
and that's the motion of
trees passing and yellow lines.
Destined to sing alone in
a language only understood by
those in a distant future,
and, even then,
only partially
much in the way I understand
my own idols.
That's the life of a man
seen as a leader by those
whose purpose is to follow,
but those that do not know
the man is a slave to
himself and the music
he hears just around
the next bend.