The way I feel inside right now,
The way my sanity now bows,
Is so unlike what I’ve got’ used to,
Is just that which I refused to
Accept as what I felt back then.
And now it’s like that once again.

Beneath my eyes, great bags now rest.
Souvenirs from inside my chest.
How many carry this special brand,
Of weights, these bags of sand,
Memories to keep them down
And safe upon the ground?

And what is best? Be safe and sound,
Or rid of one’s luggage high above
The town, the people, thus to love
What one has seen but from afar,
I think I’ll ask of my guitar.
But I’d rather have forgot’ whereto
This balloon of mine is bound.