…in my country,
the path to home is so shameless
while other nations chart
a pathway to the moon and back
we can’t trace the road to work
without being crushed beneath a tilting truck
we can’t find our way back home
without dancing the surugede of potholes
we can’t see what lies ahead…
how fortunate are we expected to tread?
…in my country,
the road to home is called RIP
whenever we crawl this road
two things are involved
- Rest in peace
- Return (home) if possible
only a handful return
in my country
