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The Refugee
Warming myself in the fire of the sun, why must the soil be so cold?
Listen closely, and I'll show you a story of ancestors I never knew
They had a place like this that they called home, or so I was told
Watch intently; I'll unfold my own fable heard before you like they grew
Down the blackest hole, the richest safety I would know, I began to take hold
Wait patiently; here comes a thin line of green brought by a stream of blue
In good time, don't prop me up now! No trust; I will hold my own crown
You sleep so calmly without remorse in your house for hours eightfold
I've been sweating all night, hoping that morning won't come, only to cut me down
Then you come with hands and fingers, pulling out the nails that held together the place I made anew
Now, I'm just another refugee; controlled by the view you hold
Copyright ©
Anonomus Scorpio
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