Woke up with an aching headache, and sour taste again
too much drink, too much froth, is this thy fountain?
is this the place, where I have come to rest my tired limbs
from a journey so rugged, from a path so steep.
for all those days toiling under burning sun
for all those nights, with feet inside a cold water basin
fighting dogged onslaught of mighty sleep
to gain something, to be somewhere
ah fountain of hopes and dreams surely this is not you
I grow weary but I must tread on
for this silver fountain, so intricate and beautiful
has water most bitter, and cannot quench this thirst
and the fountain does softly whisper forth
as it watches my footprints cast north
steadfast and true, young traveler
in the right direction does he step.
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