Mud on one side of the road Dust on the other
walls and people
Some guy between the fabric of dreams inventing his own deadline
Paths that go miles in the imaginations of few
The scent of something familiar
Something different
Maybe stew
Stew or the random ingredients of what life is made of
Boys line up before cafeteria halls and watch girls pigtails
As they knock around
Some part of the universe holds a useful secret
Those steps toward are each riddles
yes the key itself is a long bridge
Where love is often graffitied
And everything that is less important can be seen underneath
life can be such a stable structure, birth is instant purpose unpaid for
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