South of my old homeland
I travelled night and day
For the perfect somewhere
To hide and steal away
I disappeared from sight
And never told a soul
About the darkest pictures
That made my story whole
A man in grey once told me
That he had been a king
The greatest of war heros
Of which the prophets sing
But that man died a begger
Swollen with disease
He rests now in an alleyway
And yet he is appeased
The bravest of my sons
Had a vision of a plain
Where all the kindest folks
Were all treated the same
But my young boy was halted
By his own knife shining red
Congratulations, son
For dreaming, now you're dead
I asked a holy man
Why my life was riddled so
He turned and told me that
He thought that I should go
South of my old homeland
I look unto the sky
Fade away, she said
In the alleyways I die
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Such a pleasure to read you, my friend. Write on....
