There is a sad place where all the poets go.
They eat the bread of life and
instantly they are taken there.
They can sit and dream about
the clouds and of love
uninterupted by the rest of the world.
There is a merry place where all the children go.
They crawl through a pipe and
on the otherside they will see
blue misted moutains and purple hills.
They will play the games of my youth
and will never be called to dinner
by their impersonal mothers and hateful fathers.
There is a dark place where the cowboys ride.
They jump over the fire and through the smoke.
In this place the work is done
but hunger is always there.
They are safe from humanity
but they cannot hide from themselves.
There is a place I need to return to.
I never want to go back, but the need is there.
Thousands of people staring at me.
Thousands not caring about my fate.
Millions blaming me for the thing
I never could have done,
but some how I became the scape goat.
I hope you can come with me
to escape the world and become
addicted to that place where you
will belong in time enough.
