The lost art, the lost passion. We Are Tramps.
This is the weaving of our dream.
The tale has just begun.
Leather on our feet, and beards on our faces. We will live.
On the road and in the wood, live like only few have, live the life we want,
On this needed and extraordinary jaunt.
Howling at the moon in the mid-night, starving and fighting.
Through the Good, The Bad and The Ugly, We Are Tramps.
"There are no boarders, none, zero..."
2 comments:
I love this poem, it expresses how we all have the need to fulfill the wants and needs of our curiosity, to see the world as it should be and forget the prying hands of money and civilization, sometimes we all just have to get away.
Totally agree, I loved it too.
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