Walkabout

By ManWithHat

Down the street and up the hill,
around the mountain, further still,
Past the city, through the town,
along the valley, beside the down,
Through the stone gates, thick and tall,
behind the misty waterfall,
threading through the old graveyard
then cross the border (it ain't hard),
over fields where ravens crow,
through forests where no trees can grow,
past houses where no family's found,
past big machines that make no sound,
around the towers with ringing bells,
and rest near Darfur's wishing wells;
then journey on towards the moon,
take the second right past the Afghan dune,
cross the ocean in a wooden boat,
fishing for words that dead women wrote,
cross the desert with a wooden cart,
meet the coast with a broken heart;
cross the sea in a steamer ship
(the coal dust'll make you lose your grip),
in caves of crystal, caves of stone,
forgetting everything you've known,
come up for air, and stride the dell:
this is the way to walk to Hell.
This is the way to walk to Hell.

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Walkabout

Created: Apr 17, 2009

Tags: journey, walk, trip

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