The wanderer gets wheat to make bread
The living dead
Rest their heads
On hospital beds
Shrapnel and lead
A ******* crisis
For our wanderer

She blinks
And thinks
About the future of the streets
The teachers pet treats
The ones who like to cause havoc,
The ones who **** in bed sheets

A place not for the wanderer to follow
Not a shallow place of force fed **y
From people who buy sporks for cutlery
A toury filled society

The ones who want priority
Beg for authority
Over the minority
Where is the love
Push comes to shove

A wanderers short lived life
May seem
A memory,
A final breathe
A final dream