The roads are long and winding.
People left to the past.
The sweet peace is binding.
I feel safe at last!
No matter the day, life is such turmoil,
There is always misery at every turn.
Life is so mysterious like stories by Doyle.
An empty road leaves nothing for you to yearn.
You can cry.
You can scream.
You can die.
You can dream.
Lost in the jubilance of driving at 3 a.m
The roads are so lonesome.
There is nothing to see, and
Nobody they want you to be.
Just peace…
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