following my mind onto twisted wings,
swaying to a call that’s just another whim,

unfearing, barely breathing;
just hearing, sensing, feeling,
the call of the whim as i ride the dark alleys within

were i to fly i’d want to fly
go past the rot
and the stench that permeates the pores unknown,
but then i can’t fly now, can i?

so i do what comes best
i press forward on the throttles,
and venture out into the dark starry nights
just an alien bird in the wind

and when i reach the horizon,
i find them all to read the same thing,
the same damm thing

the journey is just the beginning,
the journey is just the beginning….