The sun beats down on this weather beaten frame
Itís nothing new to me; itís all just the same
The tired streets bear me with a groan
As I kick away another solitary stone.
Where am I going and what am I doing this morn?
Why do I listen to the blaring of the car horns?
To be honest, I donít have a clue
I just donít know what I want to do
Where do I go to escape my demons?
I ramble on as if Iím dreaming.
Why do I prefer this stilling solitude?
Why do I have this isolationist attitude?
Itís not as if I like it, I must confess
If I donít like people, I like myself less
Itís just that I have nowhere to go
No ideal place for me to run to
Thatís why I take the streets at every chance
Pondering questions of peace and romance.
Yes, indeed, Iím a lonesome wanderer
My travels take me further and further
Observing people as places go by
Even People who donít have a place to lie.
I take in many aspects of my city of ruins
Whose people may be poor but are genuine.
I sit with my coffee and look around
And observe the happiness people have found
In a partner or some idle pursuit
They have partaken of joyís fruit.
Even Iíve felt it, its sensation is fleeting
Itís not a feeling I find often repeating.
In the open fields, I stop for some tea
And a sea of lovers is what I see
Indulging in the happy moments of love
It is now that they praise the Lord above
Before long, they see it quite differently
As soon as it doesnít go so excellently.
The night has fallen, as I reckon
Home at last does indeed beckon
Iím weary only when I reach the door
Otherwise Iíd have wandered some more.
I praise Shiva, Lord of destruction
For bringing another day to its conclusion.