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| Image:Johannes Plenio from Pixabay |
I picked up my guitar
Put on my faded jeans
And headed down the road
To find what freedom means
I hadn’t gone very far
When I started looking back
At the fields where love had grown
And the harvest that turned black
Just like a wild flower
In a world of broken stone
I’m looking for some light
That I can call my own
But in this cold shadow
The sky is overcast
I’m haunted by my memories
And ghosts of the past
I’m a child of the highway
On the border I was born
It was on a stormy Monday
Just before the dawn
I looked into a mirror of magic
It was tragic as I saw through
Myself and every thing else
I once believed to be true
A distant star was shining
High over my destiny
But the closer I seemed to get
The further it seemed to be
I found an old newspaper
But there was no date
On the front page was a story
About me and my fate
Was this just a dream
There must be some mistake
No secret kept,I’ve overslept
But when will I awake ?
Lyndon Queripel
