I scribble the word freedom
On a piece of paper
And hand it to him
The words on Butch Cassidy
Don’t reach me
The authenticity
Stuck somewhere
Between my throat
And my heart
Where’s
This thing
Called truth
an ode to travelling
I scribble the word freedom
On a piece of paper
And hand it to him
The words on Butch Cassidy
Don’t reach me
The authenticity
Stuck somewhere
Between my throat
And my heart
Where’s
This thing
Called truth