Travelling Lost

I should but swing my head to a song so sweet  
Raise my glass to a story so strong
Through it all, I know no longer shall I ride alone

What is there to speak of that has not already been written?
To be original is to be insane
To be original is to be false, a dream, a whimsical thought

Yet I ramble

Burning exhaust flies to my nostrils upon the grace of a new day
A glorious study of untouched roads
Now alight with taillights and headlights
They seek to perform a duty commanded by those who have taught us so
Those who have taught you manners, hopes, goals, anger
Those who have raised you to a mold, in hopes one day you will set

I will not set,
I will run, be it to an ocean far away or a mountain top covered in snow
I will always run
As there is no home for one so lost

Lost in a decent sense,
Lost with no direction and lacking in a need to return from whence I came
Where I travelled has led me to this place
I can only travel on

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