different state, different storm. another day, another morn. thirty minutes out of bed, simple struggles the leaves never get. sometimes it's better to think about the days i can relish, embellish, and blink my eyes (a new disguise). if i blink my eyes, the world goes away, but if i leave them closed, the solitude never does stay...so i'll keep 'em this way.
because no matter how much i sleep, the birds still sing, the river still rings, and there are still four seasons.