Written by: Anderson Walkingshoes

Where do I have to go?
Impossible to count the number of steps to get me home,
She needed me for sexual excitement, 
Yet,my thought and ego was beneath enlightenment, 
Nothing did she afford to do then,
At the moment she saw me on the field,
Inside me was a tempered shield,
Which made her bullet against me, 
Get back to the shooter.