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December 16, 2009

Soul without a clue (or a goal)

As a warped up soul without a goal he drifted off too soon to the clue.
His woman was lost, his friend was a ghost and he didn’t know what to do.
So he walked along with a song in his mind trying to keep it real.
The beating sun had chased him blind and he didn’t know what to feel.
The mountain lions from side to side were often where he would hide
His courage was a bag full of rotten sage - his eyes had cried and dried.
The following day he made his way towards the giant trees
He wished he could rest under its shade and feel its gentle breeze.
The poachers had found their prey and were waiting for the heat.
He wondered what would happen now if he asked them to retreat?

That night he heard a deafening shot that caught his bleeding shin.
With many more months to walk, he could no more hide his skin.
They say he faded into northern woods besides the dairy queen
The world had yet to discover then what lay within his broken dream.
Without a pause the cause of being – everything said before was lost
In time the viceroy made his speech, he said everything has a cost
So what would you be if not for the tree that gave away to his soul?
What would have been where would it seem that we have reached our goal?

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