The Hunger

It was the hunger she had,
a longing to be complete.
Nineteen years she waited,
she’s at the edge of her seat

She wanted the nomadic
and she’s found the key,
cut from her puppet strings
and now she is free

She’s turned to colour
and they’ve all faded to black,
they can’t keep their grip now
and she won’t look back

She wanted the unfamiliar
and she’s found the unknown,
severed from her cord
born from herself alone

It was the hunger she had,
pity the flower and the tree
she’s escaped, been uprooted
and now she is free.