Weathered Wasteland
Over in the weathered wasteland.
Where angels fear to dwell.
Are understanding's no one can understand.
And you swear that you're in hell.
The mountains stand before you.
Too high to see beyond.
You can't find a way to get through.
And it feel's like you've been conned.
So as you stand there idle.
Too lost to turn around.
You build your golden idol.
And hope that you get found.
The world is slowly dieing.
And cost is out of hand.
So many have stopped trying.
In their own weathered wasteland.
Copyright © Robert Johnson | Year Posted 2014
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