Up and over seven rocky hills,
Down into the valley to cross a stream,
I carried nothing on my back but chills,
Who chided, "Chase her, chase your dream."
I followed commands my heart issued out,
Racing, demanding, it yelled to me the route:
"Cross these vasty plains ye cowardly virgin!
Run to the place, I promise you her face."
The mountain I crawled up to call her phone,
(How long did I listen to a flat dial tone?)
Ringing, I did it, now it's up to her...
A voicemail message. The smoke and I alone.
My heart is a liar,
And I must wander home.
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