when I was 14 I was starting to get the itch between my legs a few months later I ran away, doing things to a bit of excess I’ve been travelling ever since, it’s a matter of knowing what’s good for yourself, what get’s your mind blowing

it’s the whistling in the sun, it’s the singing in the rain it’s the blisters on my feet, it’s the heartache and the pain it’s travelling on my own, askin questions to a stranger it’s arriving in a new place, and absorbing new sensations

it’s the cities I’ve been, it’s the people I’ve seen it’s the girls I’ve kissed and the only girl I miss it’s my father, it’s my mother, it’s my sister, it’s my brother it’s the things you do to another, it’s my face in the mirror

it’s the whistling in the sun, it’s the singing in the rain it’s the blisters on my feet, it’s the heartache and the pain it’s travelling on my own, askin questions to a stranger it’s arriving in a new place, and absorbing new sensations

my eyes are red from lack of sleep I walk for miles on dark-side streets different places different faces glossy lips and sloppy kisses

it’s the cities I’ve been, it’s the people I’ve seen it’s the girls I’ve kissed, and the only girl I miss it’s my father, it’s my mother, it’s my sister, it’s my brother it’s the things you do to another, it’s my face in the mirror

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