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Soarin

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I'm tired of moving things in my dreams,but not in real time
Tired from soaring threw the skies, only to awake with no reason for this rhyme
I'm dreading the next time I go, knowing whats ahead
The surge of kinetic energy, pullinf me into threads
Fibercilia lines are the make-up, of the mode in which I operate
And gold is the gleaming light, truth in the fields they replicate


.....Ol, how if you could see the dreams I've drempt the most
The clarity of my eyes, I could paint paint coast to coast.





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