I am like a rambling rogue
my happiness still homeless
and trouble an old stray dog
that follows me everywhere I go
misunderstanding must be my shadow
for it will not leave me alone
my mind is a haunted highway
and these bandits never pass me by
well I've drank from the trickle of entitlement
with its undercurrent of oppression
and I've wandered the lonely hills
and been lost in the valley of the found
I've camped in fields of foolishness
I've swam in the river of the ******
I've skinny dipped in self destruction
and seen reason buried in the ground
I've known madness a midnight blanket
that sinks in swifter than quicksand
sometimes with less sound
and every season it seems
that tragedy paints the leaves
and misery parts the clouds
and if I didn't know better
I'd say that old oak
was dripping not with sap
but with satire
and I know betrayal fills these seas
and the tides turn with nothing but unrest
and the winds sing of their unease
and if pain were the first flower of spring
it would bloom a little too often
and if the moon could hear me cry
I would howl at it no longer
and if the sun were not a spy
that gave up every day
to rise again so brilliantly
like a child that ran away
and if the sky did not weep with rain
with a thunderstorm for a stomach
and a lightning heart
for an enlightening soul
I then would be on my own
but these roads are paved with mystery
and I can't help but wonder
what the horizon holds
so I travel this realm with optimism
ready as my adventure unfolds