i march along the chosen road
far across the mountains
and through bucolic sprawls,
till my path shall meet the heavens
where ill join the eagles flight
I hear the beating of my heart
as erratic as the wind
as erratic as my flight,
as it fantasizes and romanticizes
a stark reality
images floating before my eyes
both real and false alike
thus the salt keeps coming
as the drummer keeps on drumming
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