In the broken and discarded
Places of the world
There lie pieces long forgotten;
Like childhood memories
So effervescent and fading.
In the dark and desolate crevices
Of a mind so lost
There lies back-allies and sidestreets.
Corners that few have turned;
Places that even the maker has shunned.
We stride down dusty roads
Calm and collect,
And like the fools we are,
We deny the use of a map.
So we keep walking
With our guns by our sides,
Prepared to shoot down the messenger
Or simply a passerby
Who was just passing through.
In the corners of our minds
We search for a shelter,
A hearth to call home.
Just a place
To tie up this horse
And rest our feet for awhile.
Maybe even have a drink
And a conversation worth our time.
But these places are few and far between
And rest doesn't come cheap
Or easy.
So I'll just saddle up,
Keep on looking,
And tip my hat to the dying sun.
Me and this old horse
Have a long road ahead
And we can't be bothered
With talk of rest and redemption.
So I'll just keep going
Following the horizon;
It's never steered me wrong before.
And if you ever find me
Coming through your town,
Please just offer me a drink
And a talk.
That's all I'm looking for anyway.
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Submission Name: The West Side Of Nowhere
