nothing changes, they just become distorted |
I don't know how I got there but I knew I had no choice, I had to stay, at least til I was purchased here on Collavy Road. I was being sold to a man for a handful of gold, thus is the price of one human life along Collavy Road. While awaiting the sell of my flesh I spied a lad, maybe of eight, he was taking a morning stroll down Collavy Road, he saw me, and what was taking place, then shook his head with sadness giving me hope for humanity till he said with truth filled voice, "Always junk is sold here on Collavy Road." Purchase complete, I was shoved down at the buyers feet, my shackles clinked and clanged as I dropped hard echoing across Collavy Road singing the tune of another slave trade done, a tune which was sung repeatedly in the past here on Collavy Road. Years later a war was fought and I was set free to do with myself what I please, so I set out to where it began for me, Collavy Road; upon my arrival, I was spied with many eyes, cursed and taunted; then finally beaten. As times change for the better, things seemed to remain the same here on Collavy Road. Years have past since that day and the name of the street changed. Though every sight remained the same, no longer is it called Collavy Road; but when I think of the life I was forced to start with the exchange of a handful of gold, forever in my heart will it be known as Collavy Road. |