Line...
Of flight
Occasionally, when I look into my eyes
I feel forlorn in a fog of absence
Always give evasive answers
Keeping paths a clear runway
Since I'm f*ckin' running all the time
But what from and where to?
Has this become my standard MO?
My inner compass seems shattered
Now I dance around on Bullshit Boulevard
Occasionally, when I look into her eyes
I simply keep longing for Sleep
When emeralds green reach down so deep
Transmutation of inner opposites
I'm paralyzed within a dance
I'm cloaked and soaked in raindrops
Billowing volatile puffs of steam
Nebulous visions through a prism
A nomad, traversing the in-between
Each of us
Is several
And therefore
Quite a crowd
Aided
Inspired
Becoming
Multiplied
Aided
Inspired
Becoming
Multiplied