I wander the empty roads around the forests by your house,
it’s the dead of soggy winter January 6th,
I haven’t taken the New Year too well,
and it has left me with empty pockets that speak
a sign language that I cannot begin to comprehend.
I hear your footsteps and I know I hear a charming man,
You make the wind quiver in the Finnish weather/filth.
This time I haven’t been drugged by pharmaceutics,
and I haven’t been fucked up by therapeutics,
but you already knew there was no worry.
You are so very bright and innocent now,
you gave up on the dregs of society’s piss filled heads,
where my voice was alone in a cave of echoes,
but your ears were there first to guide me.
And I only take baby steps in your glory.