Running along them calmly you may hear the roar of the freight behind you
then again that could be the endgame
to allow everything to all end
and make it all seem like a mistake.
Then again these could be the sight of pure victory
of a long road towards freedom
of a long road towards rebuilding
the railroad away from slavery
but when you look at your wrists are you still bound?
when you look at your feet are there still shackles?
Can you break the chains that have anchored you down your entire life?
Can you break free of the weight of it, the pain and the strife
Unfortunately for me, I carry around the weighted duffel
this innately large possession of my own that holds all my troubles
so many mistakes made, so many moments with only one place to turn
while done for my own protection, losing that gift has made me undone
let me make this clear, this is all about self right now
this revolving issue has nothing to do with anyone on the outside of my brain
in the end there is not enough support for this frame
weighted down, heavy, tired, and when it gets close to the struggle
all alone with no home
a nomad who does not even belong where he lays his head
a man who speaks yet is never heard
someone would call a leader yet no one is ever lead
all in all this is a joke of an existence
I dare you to give proof to deny
that horn is getting closer, louder
time to catch my ride