I've trudged along the muddy trenches of Greenland,
And skipped stones on the waterfall of the Alamo.
No wild cats could stop me in the streets of New York City.
Or divert me from my swim of the deep blue of Cairo.
I was taught to ride the most savage of the llamas,
And learned to feed the dainty, playful boars.
My feet were tangled by the vines of Sudan,
And the snowstorms kept me idle at Greece.
I endured the frostbite of Portugal,
Though later thought to observe the pandas of Sydney.
It can't stop me now, it won't dare to try.
It knows I've got the whole damn world under my hand.
My eyes are dialated and my vision isn't too good after it all.
But I've got this scroll in my chest, some anthology in my head.
And it reads like it writes, skipping lines and forcing words.
The whole desertive rock is burning with this shreaking cold.
It's not too bright of a lightbulb now, is it?
I see it standing at the entrance, knocking those fists into wood.
It could be spiderwebs and I'm certain it wouldn't know what to do.
I know I should take a flight to Japan and not mock,
Some pressured concept about Pride and other's misfortunes.
But I surfed and suffered a new wave in Argentina
And it led me to the big feast with the stuffed pig.
So I held knitting classes for a blind man.
I was a pilgrim out on the outskirts of town.
And my favorites were sweaters to make and cover such violet arms.
Yet I still get blinded by the snake in the mouth.
But, hear, I smile.
I've made it this far, ran the whole nine miles.
And I wish I could pick it up from that treshold.
And take it to the nest of Alaska to feed.
But you're decaying in India and I'm still stuck on Mars.