Tell me, what is the fairest way to Upsala
For I have been to the highway, seeking a one-way ticket
But the vehicles are just as angry as their drivers
So I followed the footsteps of women carrying heavy-laden baskets,
Husbands with machete and children with no education
But the women wanted to pick fights over right of way,
Men defending lands with no landmarks
And children making a muddle of streams with no water

Then I went to the runways
But lacking cash and looking tattered,
I could only admire the takeoffs and landings
From behind chain-link fences the causeway beckoned
And I would gladly have sailed to Upsala
But seamen with barrel chests warned of watery graves
And wandering men with no bodies haunting flapping sails on mighty seas

So, friend, won’t you tell me the fairest way to Upsala,
For I need to go where it is said gold paves the roads,
And spices of Arabia perfume the very air,
Fruits from faraway lands are on hand
To quench the hunger of way-weary soujourners

Upsala, the land that haunts dreams of lowly men,
With smiles on tired visages
That hints of hopes of horses that beggars can truly ride!

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NOTE: Not sure why the word “Upsala” “came” to me. There is indeed a place by a similar name (“Uppsala” – note the double “p”) and it looks idyllic but a lot of the other things mentioned above (are they even the same place?) have no basis in reality I think.

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