The Wanderer

Wanderers creep through the unlit streets
Less judging eyes under the gleam of the moon
Pondering what the next stop shall be
Montana
New York City
No where, yeah no where sounds nice

The wind whispering through memories of a time when home was confined to four walls
A time of false stability
When a belief still remained in hard work paying off
A time of "normalcy"

Losing everything in the blink of an eye
For what?
Rent Hikes, property tax, gentrification
No longer a single familiar face
The park where children once ran and laughed
Now a coffee shop overpriced and understaffed
An old Library sits collecting dust, as do the books on the shelves

Where did the people who once lived here go?
Into the night searching for warmth
Feeling as if this world no longer has room for them

Grieving losses and building chains that shackle the spirit
No conclusion in sight
Unsure of where to go
Maybe no where, yeah
 no where sounds nice

No where that can be taken away
No where circumstances change for no apparent reason
No where sounds safe

Wanderers creep through the unlit streets
Led by the gleam of the moon
The day the wanderer makes it home
Well that day could not come too soon