I walk, meandering from the paths
getting lost & enjoying it
no responsibility, no reference
other than to the experience of the moment

the city is nothing but a fading dream
running out of steam, shunting, grunting
the world is spinning, larger
than the cities small provincial jaded gleam

there's more to life than conforming
to the grind of perpetual dis-ease
and at this precise moment, I know it
feel it, know that life is, big, big ,big.....

I walk the hills, feel the wind on my cheeks
blasting its obvious reasoning, conceptual
rigour disappears, becomes just another clique
circle of confines, limited & daft, unreal concern

time is short and I feel that I must abort
the confusion, this city kills love, sneers at beauty
by using irony, institutionalised language
in an isolationist bed of separatist schemes