Time. A one way street. Red lights. Green lights. You can take a detour, but the destination

is always the same.

Where do we go? I hear many songs of this, stuck on repeat.

Old records covered in dust of skins that once walked the same sidewalks that are now split by the cracks of an earth that is ever changing.

Are we? I sing of a song slightly out of tune. Out of time. Imperfect as it must be. I prefer it.

Keep your roads. I’ll take the milky way. I will drink the light of a thousand suns. Give me a double.

I’ll fly an air ship where there are no signs. The only cross roads are spread out across the sky in flumes of white.

And when the night comes for me, I will not run. I will take the helm, and be fearless. Into the dark matter.

Deep unknown. I will split apart. Over and over.

What is now me, will not always be. My voice will be an echo against walls of blue.

My blood will fade to bone. The breath of my house will carry me far and wide. I’ll be a true traveler then.

Going farther then my bones could take me. Going to spectacular visions of the deepest violet hues. Swirling in cosmic fireworks.

Forever more. This is the song I will sing.