I miss the green grass of home,
whilst I sit in coffee-fueled despair
and if I close my eyes for a little while,
It's almost like I'm standing there-
on a dirt-covered road with the hot sun beating down,
in an uninhabited acre, while only snow surrounds,
where but the sweet call of songbirds
pierces the air
and no rumble of humanity
can be heard in the clear-
I miss the green grass of home

Freedom feels hollow in an instant,
how in my youth I longed to escape
my dreams saw me travel thousands of miles,
and now how I long for that place-
where the sky meets the endless horizon
and a breath feels ever so sweet,
and the soft, black earth I travel,
bears the prints of my ancestor's feet

Perhaps one day, again, I'll call it home,
and until then, it'll house my soul
for only such a tempestuous and wild land,
can carry such a sorcerer's hold.

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