I am walking through this miserable weather,
my heart set for home,
I am surrounded by the rain, once again the notion to run overcame me,
But I resist and walk on heavily in my ungainly fashion. I am tired of walking.
I am also tired of waiting for this train every morning, listening to our songs.
As they echo on and on to the hum of everyday life, words fill my head and turn into memories now threatening my idealistic vision of the future, and the wind is getting colder.
Despite the fact you want to forget the times that have been and gone in a respect we will always have this bond for one another.
We both lie to one another in vain hope that time will heal our scars, but it doesn't only make them more pronounced it fashions them into shapes that gradually form our past.
We start with basic manners and generic conversation topics, then it gets more personal and it all comes flushing back into this open gate of mine. Thereon our words are brief but precise, the insignificant mutters drowned by what we really mean to say and everything just collapses and streams back into me.
A shrewd lady told me long ago, my home is where my heart beats,
I haven't forgotten what she told me or who is.
