Why lay in bed,
With a sleepy head,
When morning is so
beautiful outside.
What can I find in a
reclining chair, certainly
no meaning or reason to care.
Or staring into some brazen screen,
Dancing with figures obscene.
What distills within an others
heart, may not be what resides
within mine. The beauty we seek
in starry nights, sometimes hides.
The world if full of complicated ideas,
Of semantics, crazy antics, and frantically
fading days. And without being true, to
me, what could be, and that which we love,
Like falling from heaven, all may quietly turn
to dust.
