There is nowhere to go.
Not a place unforeseen.
Throughout this land,
of mysterious things.
I wonder..
Am I to make of it a dream?
Or lie victim to its squander,
with pity to my name?
My soul thirsts for a taste of substance,
a place to call home,
cheeseburgers with mustard.
Nov 22, 2014
Nov 22, 2014 at 2:21 AM UTC
There is nowhere to go.
Not a place unforeseen.
Throughout this land,
of mysterious things.
I wonder..
Am I to make of it a dream?
Or lie victim to its squander,
with pity to my name?
My soul thirsts for a taste of substance,
a place to call home,
cheeseburgers with mustard.
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