In the real world
I am merely a passerby.
Finding no home to call my own.
I walk the dusty ***** streets
So lost and all alone.
Why then should it be this way?
Is this the modern way of life?
Am I to always suffer loneliness
A life beset by doubt.
a unfinished piece that I can never finish. I guess that's just it!
updated, a huge thank you to sir Joe Cole.