sometimes, in silence, stillness seems like a gift
but tonight, like a desert, it’s arid and dry
i look up in hope, i let my mind drift,
i only see darkness and clouds passing by

i remember my travels in strange foreign lands
I remember the days when my roof was the sky
i measure the feeling, as I stare at my hands

the light gone, i sit here and wonder why
i still have a wish to wander and roam
and how did my journeys all end alone

the truth is,
my travels were all seeking home


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