This Is My Surreal
This lonely road I walk upon, it’s broken,
It goes to “Who knows where?”
This road is torn and ripped apart,
And it doesn’t seem to care,
About where it leads my little life,
I guess it doesn’t matter anyway,
It just throws emotional pits and holes,
Not listening to what I say,
But, this lonely road I walk along,
Is going through a forest of free,
Where I can hear the songs of birds,
Sing from each ancient tree.
So, even though this road is torn,
It’s mine, it’s my surreal,
This road takes me to “Who knows where?”
And that’s fine, that’s how I feel.
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