What do you want me to do?
I certainly do not know.
Should I stay, or should I go?
Just give me a little clue.
The times draw quick when I will fly,
far and fast into the sky,
leaving everything behind,
far from where I now abide.
Life is but a hazy dream,
thin and wispy silken shawl.
Its hypnosis, we're in thrall,
to things that remain unseen.
Mine eyes are blind yet still I see.
Occulation floating free.
Sight is soaring far from me.
What could this strange feeling be?
