How do you know you weren't born with a high brain?
the unlucky just weren't born seeing it my way
I am a deep lake, thoughts like a river flowing through
Stagnant to those passing by, but deeper and fresher than they ever knew
I watch the world through steady eyes and distant view
I see beauty missed by those rushing through
Some seek this place in swirls of smoke and escape the earth
While I struggle to plant my feet and comprehend its worth
I am always here and rarely glimpse the world they know
Grey and boring, shadowy, cold and snow
I walk a concrete jungle path mysterious like the inhabitants are
and make foot prints in a sparking white field while swirls fall from afar
This world is what I live, sought by smoke and flowers
less understood, I could daydream for hours
