From the seas turn region I roam,
On my tree trapeze, through the leaves I have flown,
In stained glass skies, the evening unfolds,
Stay sharp like a beak of the crow.
I just creep on the low, through my secret window,
Feel the niche and my mic. plugs a leak in the boat.
Never hit the mainstream in the creek where I row,
Feel the wind in the willows from the breeze when it,
When it's freezing below, when I'm deep in the snow,
Opened up my heart, brought heat to the cold.
And I, wont follow sheep like a clone in this rat race,
They compete for the throne,
Treat freedom of speech like a breach of the code,
So I unleash and stampede