The winds keep blowing.
The days keep changing Trees whispering and weeping.
No roots have I.
The trees, they mock me, An illusion on my desire.
Roots...
Penetrating deep, Made strong in healthy soil.
Soil...
Good soil, Soil I should want to call my home.
Somewhere, I know there is a place, A place where my home will be.
My home will be safe and warm.
Safe and warm is where I want my home to be.
Love will shine on cloudy days.
Love will witness on sunny days.
Sunny days, cloudy days, I want my home to be.
Safe and warm, my home will be.
Somewhere, I know there is a place, A place where my home will be.
Safe and warm...
Love will shine.
Love will witness.
In my home...
Somewhere, I will find my home.
Where is there a place I can go, A place that can keep me warm? Somewhere there is a place where my heart stays whole, A place where I am loved.
I know that place.
It's inside of me.
It belongs to me...
Forever and always.
It is a place that can never be taken from me.
It is inside myself.
There is warmth and kindness, For myself...
Inside myself.
I am safe inside myself.
I am myself, Inside myself.
I am free.
Flying in soft places, I feel freedom.
Worries and woes, I just don't understand.
Where is the meaning that makes sense? The music floats to me...
The music penetrates my very being.
It sings to me in question marks.
I can hear it all around.
It is a blessed feeling that I feel.
Those marks seem to be, fading, but, what do they tell me? Yes, I feel free.
Penetrate my being, reach my soul.
Sing to me in kind and gentle music.
I am free.
My mind can fly.
Sometimes confused, I don't understand, But then, the music starts again.
And I am free...
again.
Circles and squares, triangles in-between.
Dots are connected.
Lines are joined, as lines are wasted.
Flashes of light in triple-time.
Memories dancing, Soft colors all around.
It is a mixture of heaven and hell.
Peace and confusion connect the dots, As triangles pierce the pattern.
Squares are solid.
Circles, forever, wind around, and around, and around.
No dots to connect.
Circles are perfect...
the goal desired.
Circles satisfy.
Circles, forever, wind around, and around, and around.
Inside there is no Outside.
Inside there seems to be no door.
Inside there are only riddles.
Outside nobody wants Inside.
Outside is free, trapping the Inside, Trying to be the Outside.
Sometimes Outside wants to be Inside.
Sometimes Outside wants to be lost Inside.
Sometimes Outside just wants a vacation.
Well, why then...
Is it called madness?