She sits upon her mountaintop <br />without a thought that she might fall down <br />She frets and struts about <br />Sometimes to me she looks just like a clown <br />She touches you as she looks down upon you with disdain <br />Talks to you deceptively, you are just a stain <br /> <br />I'm going to Chicago, Chicago <br />Land upon the lakes <br />Downtown to Chicago <br />Whatever it will take <br /> <br />The mountain is always rising <br />Getting steeper every day <br />The comtempt is falling <br />turned into a landslide by the way <br />The grass is greener, greener <br />but not on this side of the hill <br /> <br />I'm going to Chicago, top of Illinois <br />I'm going to Delago's streets <br />I have no other choice <br />I do hear the innonence of the children weep <br /> <br /> <br />If you give her your two cents of advice <br />She'll turn and give you change <br />And belittle you in a way not so very nice <br />And all her friends grovel at her feet <br />Talk behind her back <br />and say things that are not so sweet <br /> <br />So I hit interstate 65 <br />North of Huntsville, Nashville <br />Listening to music to get me my vibe <br />I'm going to Chicago <br />Maybe I can be there by the time it will be five <br />I'm going to 'cago<br /><br />Midnights Voice<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/mountain-throne/
