call of the wild
cry like a child
return to the graveyard…
like the life of a tree
how bad could it be?
so so so stationary
you live and you learn
you learn to discern
return to the graveyard…
where your feelings won’t show
where the tired and weary go…
they’re buried below…
oh, why did i go?
and what did i leave behind?
we may never know
oh, the sorrow on your face surely shows…
the sorrow of the undertow…
so sorry that i had to go…