Road To Kingston

It is wishful thinking, to suggest my mind has a curfew,
Often times meddling where others are afraid to ponder,
It is my only regret, that I am unable to commit…

Treason, merely coincidence, suggesting we walk to Kingston,
Along the way meeting a soldier from Buffalo,
A queen forcibly removed from her thrown by invaders,
Prostitutes fighting over two biscuits and half a container of water,
Asked each stranger, why they chose a road covered in thorns,
Answered a question with a question,
How come soul music enlightens fools,
While removing pain and worry from a Bedouin’s path,

It is wishful thinking, to suggest my mind has a curfew,
Often times meddling where others are afraid to ponder,
It is my only regret, that I am unable to commit…

We walked through town after town,
Receiving gifts in accordance with hospitality,
It was such a relief, knowing the reason strangers are strangers,
Is because those who come face to face with devil,
Are not aware of all of his or her past mistakes,
Misfortunes or misgivings,
As we came to the end of this lonesome road,
Each stranger spoke the other’s name,

It is wishful thinking, to suggest my mind has a curfew,
Often times meddling where others are afraid to ponder,
It is my only regret, that I am unable to commit…

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