Walking,
Not sure where the road leads
Lakes,seas
And long buildings I like,
For where I come from there is no such beauty.
Bombs fly around,
Hunger sings to me,
Left to be safer ,
To make a living.
Yes some say I am a chancer,
A scrounger,
A thieve,
An idler,
A dilly-dallier,
A cutthroat,
A raddler,
Most want me to leave this new home
But I have no where to go
I am just trying to make a living.
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