Wanderer

Lonely is the wanderer,
Who wanders to and fro,
And wanders to and fro,
Not knowing where to go.

Lonely is the wanderer,
Who can't see his own hands,
Who's darkness has caused blindness in him,
Blindness to his lands.

Lonely is the wanderer,
Who shakes his boney fingers,
Suspected as one whom lingers,
To rape the lovely singers.

Lonely is the wanderer,
Who mopes around his cellar,
Eerie tortured dweller,
Eyeing his bank teller.

Lonely is the wanderer,
Who observed his mother dying,
All the while crying,
Loud were the bullets flying.

Lonely is the wanderer,
Who sits alone, happy,
Who recalls his mother, snappy,
And finds it hard to believe

Lonely is the wanderer,
Who gets only my attention,
Resenting my contention,
And planning for my doom.
And lonely is the wanderer,
Whom seeks the very stars,
But for this lonely wanderer,
The trip will never resume...