I've come home having beaten horizons into hindsight to lay foot and payload upon the soil of a people long buried like their hopes of ever being burden free I am blood tied to the topography of this melancholy should I join these houses and their inhabitants in peeling paint and graying hair and loss of vital signs then all the miles that I have placed behind me would come to nothing would you have me still standing still still in the dream still like the background still like the blood that makes its way through you trapped in the gravity of whatever keeps you asleep I know the road that led me away is the same road that brought me back and I know the road. there is no going home to or from a stop along the way sometimes history repeats itself by not repeating itself ©2003 DC Vision
