1989

Lions in their cages
The field opens as I roll over the horizon
Bristles and thistles all about
The path winds down the hill
My bike is locking up again
The stage is set, the carnival commences
I feel relieved to have arrived
For a second I wonder,
"Was this really my destination?"
But I guess this place seems fitting
I wander past the parking lot
The vast expanse behind me
Amusement to my front
I'm going home.

Lions in their cages
The tree swing tied to rope
The house is boarded up
Cars on their last legs
The wind seems so inviting
I peddle on the wisping plain
The grass bends in my wake
And for a second I wonder,
"Is this really where I'm going?
Nowhere?"
The gears are all tied up
Breaks failed long ago
I roll until I stop, and breathe
This awfully feels like home.