Saturday, November 12, 2005 restless
Packing his back, he walked the familiar road
The scarecrows and that empty patch
Days of cookies and treehouses laughter and fun
As he turned his back to the green green grass of home
With a wave he said goodbye not turning back and no more tears
It's time to go its time to fly
Leave the memories all behind
And walk from the green green grass of home
People change and so he knows
But yet his path remains the same
And so he knows he must go
and leave it all to walk on and say goodbye
and this he knows...
just some random crap for my random thrash
Painting the sky grey @ 1:28 AM
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