I am the son of transience.
Limping towards tomorrow, leaning on a caffiene crutch.
Another house, another flight, another impulse.

I am a celebrity of memories
I stay around long enough to get bored
Then tradewinds point towards foreign ports

I am so found in the lost.
Tired of ashing forests I seek a fireplace-
that I will never find.

I get what I need, remember?
What I want does not want me.
And even the wanting is daunting.

I want my cake and so buds the tongue.
I seduce, take, taste and I'm flung
into the orange of the next setting sun.

Opportunity has keys, so it knocks no longer
The catalytic arrow pointing to wander
How do I no, when I yes before I think

Chasing greatness with less
and nothing to show
yet the growth remains like circles under my eyes.