We drove way past
The windmills
The factories
And all the little islands
That people call home
And down the road
To our own
Island
You could feel the late summer wind
Carrying the last batch away
The road had been long
And hard on us all
I felt stale as i stepped out
The last stop, of the hole trip
I think I might have wanted to go back
But there was way too much water
Between me
And what i possibly left
I heard you from behind
well at least we got great view
Always the sarcastic detachment in the face of something you like
or was it the other way around, just encryption, a layer deeper
I turned to you
All smiles
and then we were there
in the city
saved, at the root of the tree
Gehenna oh, Gehenna
A wind blows through Gehenna ikä ll
And I know it might be my last chance to get out of here
but the more I think about it, the more it dawns on me that I no longer care
if it ever happens
All possible possibilities, followed by even more demands
And the joy of doing something new, pales in comparison
I loved so many things
but it was a long time ago

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