She runs
Over the hills and far,
Far away
She runs
Always looking
She’s searching
For a promised land
Of the kind that will not ever be found
Yet she haven’t lost hope
Not quite yet
She’s hoping
It might be true
It might be real
It might, it might exist
The land from all the stories
The fairytales
Of her childhood
The ones from which
She once upon a time used to take strength
To carry on
When things were difficult
Now she runs
Hoping that one day she will find
Heaven on earth
Eden
Peace at heart
Only getting nearer
Much closer
The end of the world
She will eventually jump
Follow the flooding water
Down that endless waterfall
Wondering if the paradise
Lies at the probably absent bottom
She runs
In the back of her head
She has a tiny little voice
So kind
Telling her
She might be mislead
In the search for her vision
No more than a scratch
A tiny thought
In a dream at night
She won’t mind
She runs
Hoping she can leave
That little voice so kind
Behind
That it will stay in her past
As she leaves it to be forgotten
She runs
Always running
Away from her past
Never taking the time
To do as the little voice so kind says
To stay
To create her own
Her personal paradise
Her fairytale
No, she runs
Far, far away
She disappears
She’s gone with the wind
From all those places
Where she could have settled down
She runs
Towards the imaginary paradise
The world’s end
Disguised as the promised land of her dreams
She runs
Towards her own demise
She runs