The future is so vast for someone without a home.
Every travel sees the past scattered on the road.
Happiness is never found within the mind that seeks.
To treasures you'd be bound if you didn't have to speak.

The future is so long for someone who's lost the way.
Heavy steps drenched in fog through the places you can't stay
Moving onward is a skill not many care to know
when there is time to **** watching all these flowers grow.

The future is far off for someone who'd rather die.
Each motion an endeavor, barely scraping by.
What trials wait in store for the movement of a soul
when acts are born from restlessness always without goal.