Lead

Just keep shouting in my head

And I'll shout back so I can't hear

Your words or mine

As they appear

Keep on shouting in my head

Using poisoned words of lead

And maybe if your lucky

When you stop talking

I'll be dead

Travelling

Someone once told me that life was what you made of it and aside from feeling a vague annoyance because of the pure simplicity of this comment I felt I had to disagree, I mean isn’t it what life makes of you? Isn’t it the supposedly random events during your life that make your life what it is? None of us go out and purposely arrange these things. That’s fate’s job. It’s the small moments that matter the most, the family gathered round the bonfire, my boyfriend with his arm around my shoulders, my hand on his heart, the moments that you would happily live through forever. How much of say a career or life plan would you get through if you could? None of these things matter, the destination of your life’s ride is inexplicitly unimportant, the important part is the journey, the stopping points. In the same way my brother’s favourite part of our holiday in Scotland was the over night train, my favourite part of life is the travelling. Life is not just the means to an end.

Heart of gold

Walk with me

Down this road

And carry my heart

Dipped in ink

Of gold

Down darkened roads

And sunlit streets

And heathered groves

That's where we'll meet

My heart of old