The Road

With every breath of strength, he grasp…

 

Away, away, away and away…

 

Fly, far…

An ounce for an ounce…

 

Future, Honey, is one peculiar golden arch…

How can one get his hands dirty, only to hold that very gold?

 

Dream, My Friend…

Vanilla of this dark chocolate bar of road…

 

Do not lick too much, do not greed too much…

 

Eyes up front, get up, get dirty…

 

Because the more you walk, the more it went away…

 

Your ounce of life, that is…

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