How many times I do / remind myself / this isn’t home
promised to represent its’ own lonely say. / Maybe in returning home / we see where that particular candle burns.
For a destined traveller / The city could wait forever / Always an Eastern Star / Amongst the sky’s mythos
To pick the perfect / place to be lost / amongst the West’s Europe / is to wake up within a corridor / not having just one choice.
Where else / for a seeker of the Eastern Gateway / to end up searching?
Europa’s game / Always spun around / To me sensational / For ancient PR recognizable / Traits for the city’s pulse / A sullen step the next beat