Nomad

Something new I guess

Misguided by every mirage on the long and winding path to where he thinks he's meant to be,
This vocational nomad wanders on from oasis to oasis,
The burning of his skin the only way he counts the paces between himself and the beginning,
Every time he reaches down to drink the water, he finds his face is filled with sand and he collapses to the ground due to popular demand
From every voice inside his mind and every corner of the land,
And in that instant, realise that he will never understand,
Before the next mirage decieves his eyes and tempts his shaking hands.

Cracked lips and mangled teeth locked dead,
In a mockery of a scream for the sweet relief of the water's edge,
Or the sweet release of an instant death instead,
He'll wander on in endless pain and dread,
The gentle ache almost a friend within his head,
Still wasting time on stupid ventures which can never turn out right,
Before he shines, he just surrendors and his mind turns out the lights,
With heavy heart he'll make a start towards the next mirage in sight,
Though deep within he knows by now that it's a figment in his mind.

Another pool, it seems so close, but then they always do,
This desperate fool, he has no hope, dragging himself on straight and true,
Towards the border of the water, fueled by thoughts he might survive,
But this time he pauses, too scared to take a drink in case the water is a lie,
So this haggard man looks down, goes white as death at what he sees,
Cause the reflection staring back, it looks an awful lot like me.