I just cannot be the moon that grows trees.
The light that shows the animals the way.
The day has come for me to walk, and I just want to run.
I know this is not correct, but there is nothing else.
The tress no longer bring fruit.
The stars no longer make me sing.
This is the only way this could be.
You will never know the struggle of me.
The list is long, and the pen has run out of ink.
The road is calling me, and this time I am going to take that train.