The life my grandfather lived

The life my grandfather lived

I will return to the village
the peace I seek, I’ll find in the mountains.

Escaping from the world of bosses
I’ll devote myself to the voices of sheep
wake up as the sun rises
I’ll sleep as the sun sets.
Escaping from the anxiety for the future
I’ll write my own wyrd
I’ll make myself an eraser out of pine resin.
I’ll make pens out of pine branches.

I’ll write my own wyrd.
I’ll write my own wyrd.

I’ll escape the bossiness of bosses
I’ll escape from the tramps of soldiers
I’ll escape from blah-blah’s of customers
I’ll escape from laments of mothers
I’ll escape from the prescriptions of doctors
I’ll escape from the engine sounds of cars
chimney sounds of ships
squeaks of trains
I’ll escape from atom physics
I’ll escape from the weakness of money.

I’ll build myself a home out of pine branches
I’ll build a roof out of pine branches.
Under that roof, I’ll live
the life my grandfather lived.