Crossing the bridge I feel... oh
If only I were to drift
Along the thread of blue and green
In a boat and leave
But... oh woe
I am dragged to enter, enter an Emerald City
Where people at their zenith play games with pen, paper and people
Drilling into their minds theory separated from reality
As zealots docile devour their textbooks
That we may someday ride the hot air balloon
That brings us to the clouds of success
That we may return to
That carefree life of our childhood
That is all hot air
No comments:
Post a Comment