If you look at the world as I do,
you'll see a sphere that is constantly moving.
Its exterior filled with blue
but it’s surprising, also to me,
that the inside's turning black from gray,
the day turned to night, night to day.

And look further to its denizens,
and be amazed to what you will see.
Their eyes are clearer than any lense,
prying for anomalies there'll be.
If they see one, they would feed on them.
To be stronger than anyone can?

Their ears that are constantly changing
depending on the circumstances.
It all comes down to what they're hearing.
It's all planned and not base on chances.
It becomes big when the sounds are bad
goes small when the sound is nice and glad.

And their tongues, yes, all of them have two
is different from one another.
They may use the pinkish one to you,
and to some the one is darker.
Words are sweet but intentions are not,
you're of use or not, it's all just that.

Their bodies are still and moves one way.
They go where they want, not where they should.
In their own path they would never stray.
Push or pull, there is nothing that would
make them budge. They are all fixated
to the path, they don't know its bended.

As they walked to the path they closed in,
they would never understand that those
path that they left behind, may have been
the better path that they should have choose.
The things that they would never get until
they loosen up their body so still.

Their world that is filled with useless trash,
rots along their body so morbid.
And their soil that is replaced with ash
would never once again grow with seed.
I don’t know why, but the gems they keep
throwing to a dig, deep.

If you look at this world, from where I am,
from where I stand, you'll see creatures
that's disguising. The world's sky so high
yet they fly so low. And all the cures
there is and would be would never heal
their wounds that runs from the head to heel.

Yet, no matter what I say or do
right here, right now, it's just a matter
of time before I, without a clue
would be remade in this world, smaller.
And the mem'ries I have of disgust
to this world would turned into dust.

I’ll probably just like them.
I hope not, for I still want to wake
them up and show them that they still can
change their world for everybody's sake.
Paint it with red, blue, yellow and white
change back day to day, and night to night.

But if just like them, I still become
there's nothing to do for me but hope
that someday, someone will reach his hand
from the sky above. And one day cope
with us and touch our heart. For real change
comes from within, not force from the strange.