Leopards and tigers,
Hardly build roots,
Ronins and thieves,
Vagabond robbers,
They know that a traveler’s soul,
Is only at peace when it’s focused on goals,
You stay at a place for a day or a week,
But never for years, you gotta keep running,
Leopards achieve this by being ghosts,
Alive in the night,
Camouflaged in the day,
They stay in the shadows, appear for the kill,
And slink back again to the ghastly abyss,
For ronins and thieves it’s a different endeavor,
They stay on the road,
They always keep running,
It’s less about fleeing as a shrink would suggest,
And more about feeding the soul and the flesh,
It’s less about fear or sick coping steps,
And more about peace in detachment from men,
They have to be formless,
Pose so as soulless,
See everything as a code on a page,
It’s ones then it’s zeros,
Cogs in a machine,
Living NPCs in this game we call life,
Some folks they just go for these scented rainbows,
Happy ever after, for love, and respect,
For leopards and tigers,
Ronins and thieves,
Robbers and vagabonds,
Acer and me,
We know it’s a journey for seeking the soul,
It so just demands that aside from ourselves,
We see all else as mechanical duds
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