Slurring The Rhythms

There was cameras brought for pictures to hold all the small details.
We left them all behind, we left them all behind.
There was a place for there was a time for, we arrive to leave again,
there is no point in a keepsake when you run from collections.
I know one day there will be a book or a song line to remind me how much it
meant to me hungry, exhausted and alone.
Direction is a point, direction is a purpose, destination is a reason to live…
and this makes a heart beat.
This could be any day, this could be any year.
This could be any stage, this could be any city.
All that matters is we’re moving on.
The roadside graveyards pass and we escape,
we escape, we escape, we escape repeating.
And this construction of a nation building up
and the destruction of a nation tearing down to build again.
Trailing taillights like the ghosts of the past to escape those pasts,
en route to arrival.
We’re never going home.