Man In The Moon
The shooting stars
Fly right across my imagination.
As if they could draw lines
Or connect the dots of my building frustration.
Clouds forming shapes
And different figures in the skies.
Images I've ran from
In my head soon start to arise.
The man in the moon smiles,
Wickedly at me with his evil snare.
Can he look through me?
Does he see something inside,
Something I don't even know is there?
In the far off distance,
I see a flock of birds flying in a V.
How quickly I'm reminded the
Seemingly small stuff can be.
As the sunshine every day,
Beats down upon my face.
I find it somewhat ironic
That it is nature,
That finally puts my in my place.
Fly right across my imagination.
As if they could draw lines
Or connect the dots of my building frustration.
Clouds forming shapes
And different figures in the skies.
Images I've ran from
In my head soon start to arise.
The man in the moon smiles,
Wickedly at me with his evil snare.
Can he look through me?
Does he see something inside,
Something I don't even know is there?
In the far off distance,
I see a flock of birds flying in a V.
How quickly I'm reminded the
Seemingly small stuff can be.
As the sunshine every day,
Beats down upon my face.
I find it somewhat ironic
That it is nature,
That finally puts my in my place.
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