Headed Home
Yes I’m stuck here in this town
And I feel my life is going down
Was gonna find a place to sing my songs
But now my music has left me all alone
Seems I’ve always wanted to travel around
Reach for the stars and never touch the ground
But I just want to go back to a place I once knew
I’ve had my fun and I’ve paid my dues
Want to head out on the road
But I’m carrying a heavy load
Because tonight I have to get back on that stage
But it feels like I’m living in a cage
Maybe tomorrow will be the day
When I won’t have any dues to pay
Then I’ll head back to that place that I call home
And I promise this will be the last time I roam
Marty West
About the Creator
Marty West
Happily Married 58 years old
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Red Shelves
Death is a black hole. Think about it. A black hole is the corpse of a star, something once warm and bright, now come to the end of its life cycle. But some will argue that the cycle of life does not end with death. That death is merely another path we must walk once our bodies expire and our souls ascend. In that moment, when the fuel in the star’s chemical tank hits empty and the shiny matte coat explodes into supernova, the mass left behind – the corpse – becomes a black hole. We understand that, around such a vast cadaver, dimensions work a little differently in death to the way we’re used to in life. For example, light cannot escape the pull of a black hole when it hits the point of no return. That’s where it gets its colour. Space itself is contorted by a black hole. That’s where it gets its funny shape. Even time. Time slows right down the closer you get to it. The closer you get to a black hole. The closer you get to death.
By Matthew Curtis5 days ago in Humans
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