This Big World
by dan ankers
There go my dreams now they’re floating away
build bridges from straw just to see them again
See a pile of money where could I get my fix
Barbed wire surrounds them, the savory bouquet
Shovels for hunters and all of them gold
and while they lounge around I’m here searching through time
There’s wages allowed them but where can I get mine?
No prisoner’s free
I guess that goes without saying
but is anyone free
from the prison of me
?
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