Each day as I slumber
I dream you led me
Along a dusty footpath
Leading to somewhere nowhere
Where only the instincts can see
And as I get awoken by time
The mind becomes unrest in pieces
Wallowing in many parts
Crouching at many doors
Standing in my fate
As tall as black trolls
But each leads nowhere
Just stuck sculpture stump.
Each day as I live
This task I only do
Gathering as much hay
Without feeling gay
But the struggle brings no pay
I cud the little dime
That my toil has mined
And at rest time
Same dime cares for a
balm
Which soothe the aching muscle.
Each day I hear cries
Of men and women in pain
Wailing and searching ways
To prepare many tables
And fill many stomachs and dreams
But as they begin to search
The more wanderers they become
And as time journeys along
Each gray vanishes somewhere nowhere
Dwelling in a static stuck
Where each day I slumber
And led along dusty footpath
Which leads somewhere nowhere?
Where only instinct knows
That we are stuck sculpture stump.
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