The closing of another year finds me out roamin’ around, looking down and passing all those painted faces I see and plastic places I never want to reach for. Countless others are like me under the cover of the streets and know that Vaudeville is so much fun, with black and white for everyone; waging war that seems to shape writers, poets, and the beats. Wondering if some will ever notice those roamin’ down the roads like me, and then again beyond here lies nothing but the moon and the stars.

For all my life I have been told I’ll be nothing when I finally get old, with all the kicks and blows that have been given will never show in the chill of the morning when they tend to strike, attempting to surround you. All the thieves and pretenders are sitting and waiting in the marketplace hungry for power, and know every type for the baiting. But, when you have been struggling all your life, fighting to make things right and taking in all play by play, or blow by blow, it makes you stronger than any will ever know.

Standing there with stitches still mending from the last go around as I look down that endless road and can hear the wailing of the chimes in the distance. I know that most heroes aren’t meant to survive in most cases, and I wish I could have you return, and what you don’t understand no one else will ever see. I wish there was a way to give you a hand to hold, and know the only thing I wouldn’t do is make you bleed. Though there were times when my blood was on you, and your blood on me.

We may fight to earn, but it seems like we never learn, and through it all I know you can hear me for we are both a different kind than those around us, and they would never understand. For we know what’s in those complicated shadows that have the power to break steel and bend iron, and they think we walk along with the Devil in our heads and therefore should be better off dead. Then again we both know we ain’t pretending any hope, glory, or nothing ever went wrong.

Then again there’s a whole lot of people around us who seem to be suffering from the disease of conceit which is giving them delusions of grandeur who have me wondering if I am the one to blame for all I have done. But, then again I ain’t being led to think it’s just a twist of fate, and the time we spent together is the best we ever had.

Break my bones and they won’t ever see me fall, so come with me and ride the rising tide while the city sleeps, and be my friend. And don’t let your head hang low because like me you have seen the darkness flow, and we’ll just go down the back roads heading South underneath the stars. Though many might think we are running around in a cold and empty space, instead of making our way down the road, and the tracks under the stars, while the wind blows through the dust on their shelves.

Copyright Timberwolf International LTD: December 2015 – 26