While the Sun beats down

And the loved ones are inside; protected

the vagabond ploughs about.

 

Thirsty, every drop of water is wine to him

Nothing to call his own, but his soul.

Nothing to do, but travel the roads.

No one to talk, but the wind.

 

A happy face, nay, its filled with sorrow.

A tired man, nay, he shows strength.

A peaceful face, nay, it sparks ambition.

A face deathly pale, and yet it shows life.

 

The ones who are loved stay inside

and the ones who are proud are out, facing the world

Whether they rise,or fall it doesn’t matter

For they lived their gift, till it was theirs no more.

 

 

 

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