No Fixed Abode

Posted on Jun 28, 2012


This isn’t home
Doesn’t feel right
Feel alone
No life in sight
Born and bred
In this town
It’s dead
Tumbleweeds, no sound

Just wanna move on
Town to town
No fixed abode
Different sounds
Stories to tell
Rich in colour
Unlike this hell
That’s all asunder

Pack a bag or two
And off to go
Away, where to choose
Highlands or low?
No fixed abode
Nowhere to belong
Different roads
Should’ve long gone

Posted in: Poetry