Don't know what I am here for
living like wasted space
many avenues
of people slinging the blues
masks to shed
trading spaces, trading beds
If following the heart
is the way to go
who pays for the ads?
The head
leading in another direction
marches in line, in tune
sublime
yet, the soul
the something other
knocking
clocking
follows its own path
brambles
streams
rainbows
dreams
there are no dishes, no laundry, no meetings, no outfits
just feeling
and doing
and
the grin is wide.
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