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solo journey (Drunken Waltz)
A weary stumble, a slow stride home.
One way street nowhere to roam,
decisions to make the mind will wonder
is there any way to make the heart grow fonder.
Down and dust trodden and true
doubt and fire but never changing view.
September rain falls hidden from sight,
no eyes sparkle no more sky blue.
Home to rest thy head,
Home to empty bed.
