Song 79

I don’t write
Of love, not from me
I don’t write
Of beauty, what’s to see
I don’t write
Of gentleness around
I don’t write
Of pleasure that I found
I long to write of home far away
But I have no home
Y’know I feel exiled anyway
From what, I don’t know
I don’t write
Of favors from some friend
I don’t write
Of riches I could spend
I don’t write
Of honor, none around
I don’t write
Of virtues to be found
I long to write of home far away
But I have no home
Y’know I feel exiled anyway
From what, I don’t know
Got to write
Until I’m done
'Cause y’know it’s a type of fate
If I don’t write
I’d flail for some time
Then y’know I would break
… I would break