As a drifter can wander the desert there's verse,
for an angry old captain the ocean, or worse.
Like the power we've seen that can make a man hate
there it is, black and white, right or wrong, it's too late.
So beware, turn the tool and the others see in,
with their watching and waiting until then they begin
to debate what to do with your life and your will
as they bend you and wait cause you snap better still.
Carefully laid though they may take you off
to a place far away where you'd never get lost,
or forgotten, or hated or just pushed aside.
Where it's never too late and you're never denied
anything anytime, you've no need to disguise
who you are in your world deep behind those dark eyes.
It happens, one day, that we all must lie still,
Please inform me of any longevity pill.
I'll listen and learn till my cells won't divide,
and my molecules eaten from out to the inside.
Or maybe I'll petrify, turn into stone,
the minerals longing to replace the bone.
Then a comet could blow me to mars or beyond,
ending up in some refuse type particle pond.
On their terms in their time one might find such a find,
take a look, ask one other to find what he'd mined.
So you see we're all free and we're still all just one.
Each his own, rolling stone so you be what you want.
Would you pause if you recognized, stop if your sight
caught a glimpse of my presence before the long flight?
Could you ever remember the feel of my way
in another tomorrow, some other today?
