I like my simple way of writing
It represents who I am
And who I sometimes want to be
I like the way I think, I’ve found a certain freedom in it
But that freedom exists nowhere else
Not in any organ nor sinew nor bone
Django is a free slave.
Too long I’ve been feeling like a trail gone cold
Pull me by the back of my throat, rest in the bed of my bones
And call me home
Because I’m lost, and maybe I just want to be found.