Trip

The feeling you were always here,
Would never want to go back there,
Knowing where you were, cloud nine,
But falling back in no time,
In parts you’re free,
The rest you’d see,
What is true, what’s the lie,
It’s chaos that makes you fly.

Sure you’re sane,
As sure as you’re insane,
Gives half a chance,
To feel like you can dance,
The line is thin and grey,
There is nothing sure you’ll stay.

If you know what’s real,
And say what’s surreal?
If its all a lie,
You would never get to fly,
Thousand eyes and ears you get,
Through all the pores you sweat,
Breathing through the skin,
Will never be a sin.

Never seen a dream,
As happy as you’ve been,
Beguiled as you seem,
In an everlasting stream,
Whence foot is off the steam,
All you can do is scream.

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