The Last Outlaw

Some times I feel that it is all over
May be it was, never, meant to be.
The life has no meaning.
But then, But then I see thee………

Time comes, life goes.
The story moves on.
Countless whispers, but there are no sounds,
Restrain of the shackles on a heart’s unbound.

Is it???
Is it a crime that I don’t commit to your norms
That I hate the shores but love more the storms,
I know I do and have always done,
Loved to face the music and fire of the gun,
I have the guts, to spill them out,
Live a life between uncertainty and doubt.

The rock will face the river one day,
The top of a wave, the bottom of the bay
That day, I will stand alone,
And then I will think and think aloud,
That what I do is none of your business,
That I am not a part of this crying crowd,

I am not a party to this old rat race,
I don’t have to do things to present a great face,
That is for the sissies and the faint hearts,
The dandies, the gas bags and the loud farts

So here comes the end and the story remains the same,
The city sleeps but the outcast is still game.
The crowd keeps away and so do I,
Without a laughter, without a cry,

But still………
But still I miss thee……….
The queen of my heart who doesn’t crave me

The end approaches and I now fear,
The deafening truth which was always so clear,
The heart cries forth, which was once brave,
Will no one morn me when I hit my grave……………….