Speeding through the golden sunshine
The vibrant green of the leaves even more lively,
With the ’80s filter of my sunglasses,
Taking in the sweet smell of the pure air,
Feeling the strong wind in my face,
The breeze engulfing my exposed shoulders,
Filling my nostrils with metaphorical
gaseous flowers.
A clear psychedelic picture appears
When my eyes close,
All reality is lost,
In the blur of the trees whizzing by.
The burning hot music gives me complete power.
I remember not all people can feel exhilarating, electrifying feelings as such,
For people in the city don’t see the green leaves,
They see tall spires which gash and graze
the blue skies,
Leaving a trail of floating gray.
They can’t inhale the pure color in the air,
They plug their noses to the putrid smell of death in smoke form,
Curling out of people’s mouths.
They are unable to sense kindness in all people,
For where they are from, the villagers are full
of anger and greed.
Not all people are full of negativity however,
Some can see the best in their city,
They don’t see lights which block out the stars,
They see lights which are the stars.