As I walk along the path of the internal
and the memory’s distortion leaves me blind
the sound of leaving thoughts become infernal
and leaves no other way than to unwind
oh the calling- the calling of the others
awaiting me to join them in the skies
but I cant be blessed because i understand it
wonder why people say time flies
Oh to sit by the firelight
sleeping the nights onto the ground
Oh to wake to the starlight
and hear the wolves crying aloud
an autistic mind must keep out of the open
and keep its sacred weapons on its back
that’s why wanderers they always carry luggage on their back
and nobody touches their sack- as they walk along.
And the meaning of his words would leave me gasping
the word of definition: whore
i have always been aware of others feelings,
but now i cannot feel them anymore
i have spent my life in love and feeling, trading
but youre measured by another stadard here
never thought that love could be a task degrading
but things are changing here and everywhere
Oh to sit by the firelight
sleeping the nights onto the ground
Oh to wake to the starlight
and hear the wolves crying aloud
its a question of what you think is important
its a matter of awareness of yor worth
but when others all think different you have to change your mind
let go of of what you found real
and thats what hurts
she never knew what had occured
she never knew the magic word
but the feeling of importance kept her urgent and alert
zig-and zaggin to a bar
she was to loud and went to far
she wasnt quite walkin but moving
oh to sit by the campfire
oh to be to be to …
© 2000 Winn Nielsen