It's a choice to ambulate through the head and the heart
And out of this place all at once,
To ridden your riddle, relentless, like the rock that you are.
It's a choice, to plan the path that you pull us down, together,
leaving any help far back behind the hurdle.
It's a choice to end there, unattatched, in the thick of the thunder.
You chose my place, caught in the cold, cloudy and confused,
without a hope or  heart, a dream or destination.
It's your preference, not my choice.