Home is Where the Heart Is

November 30, 2009
A city laid out to seed
broken pavement filled with weeds
the people dead from forgotten deeds
citizen has no more needs
No one cries in the Wastelands

A newspaper blows though forgotten streets
Cars fill intersections where the Great Roads meet
Nothing left for the crows to eat
A skull bakes yellow white in the red suns heat
Everyone lies in the Wastelands

Great machines rust in their bricked up holds
Dark places give refuge to ambitious molds
No one ever listened to what they were told
Now all thats left is a world grown stale and old
Everyone dies in the wastelands

No one cries in the Wastelands
No one lies in the Wastelands
Everyone dies in the Wastelands
And when the sweet chariot swings low, it will take me home to the Wastelands

Post a Comment

Be the first to comment on this article!

Site Feedback