I sit on a chair, I’m rocking still
Look out the window, feet up on the sill
I ponder, and I focus deeply on what I’m thinkin’
I have a pile of paper and blue and black ink pens
I let all my wonders sink in
It seems that my world is gradually shrinkin’
I keep inside my room, all my thoughts
I’m slowly eroding from distraught
No one knows where I am
No one seems to understand
There is no door, no knob to turn
Escaping is not my main concern
From my space I want to transcend
But who will care in the end?
Am I better off in my room?
Where time consumes me?
My soul burns, I begin to fade to black
There I saw, there I thought, there I sat
Absolutely no where to go
Now the walls burn so slow
Who would have thought ideas are flammable?
The world will now never know how capable
Was a this particular individual
He, like many, is easily forgettable
Maybe this is to be set apart
In this room, there is no beat of the heart
There is nothing, not even a sound
Since the burnt ceiling is now part of the ground
And the surrounding is now black
Pitch and dark it is, no more looking back
