In the dark forest the smoke leads to fire
The fire is warmth from the cold and the ire
But I’m just a beggar with no meat to roast
Guarding like treasure my pieces of toast
My travel bag ripped and all on the ground
Useless marbles and trinkets are rolling around
I search with my hands in the leaves and the brush
My tears forming pockets of mud from the dust
Oh how I wish I could be yours again
Love is a blindness; a venomous kindness
We are all waiting for someone to find us
And I’m still a wanderer with a burden to carry
Hoarding like heirlooms the seeds I should bury
I always feel this down in my bones
Sometimes it’s torture; sometimes it’s home
But I don’t get to choose
Oh how I wish I was yours again
