The same hills,
The same sky.
How do you expect me
To leave?

The same rivers,
The forrest,
The waterfalls.
The fields,
The moors,
Those tiny cottages,
With the butter yellow
Doors.

The rain,
That makes us moan.
Always rain.
The rain that pours,
It sends us home.
The Snow
That blocks our paths
To work
And School.
The noxious buses.
The only way
To travel.
How do you expect me
To leave?

The man the children call,
Trampy Bob.
His waist length hair,
The can of beer
He holds
And that drunken stare.

Those on bicycles,
They drink beer, too.
The teenagers who stand
About,
Identical right down
To the shoe.
They shout, they jeer,
They fight, they cheer.
How do you expect me
To leave?

Friends are not around.
Family is deteriorating.
The world is round,
The cities are waiting.
I have places to go.
And people to see.
Why should I stay,
Where nothing awaits me?
Here, life is rough,
But so are diamonds.
Here my life,
Is unfulfilled.
I am a child,
No more.
But how.
How,
Do you expect me
To leave?