Edited, Europe

If feet crave your history,
as contact tells your the best thing tar could ever know.
And they wish they could greet your waterfalls, but the land of the free calls.
Don't you wonder if your tower is lonely as the sun sets on another beautiful day in France,
Bodies wish to could climb you, sending shivers through limbs that meet your metal spine.

But you, Budapest, need lights to show your sorrow.
Gentle long walk down your streets hoping to find meaning,
but can feet put so much trust into architecture?

And burnt eyes read of your descendants hailing from your castles,
carrying their pain and knowledge upon their backs.
Kezia has seen them transform, shes seen them protect.
Was it you?
Was it your fault?
How many have died?
wish you never knew Prague.

And finally, you'll confront one home,
the damage you've done,
giving personality and shelter.
confused by what you do,
They're ashamed of what you mean.
Knowing only bits of your tongue,released from your mouth,
but fear,
It's almost never October in Poland.