Who are you to me?
Are you God or Diseased?
Help me kill this fantasy,
I'm stuck living in.

My eye's burned,
but I make believe.
My ears died but,
I hear the breeze.
My veins are dry, but, my heart, still, beats,
tell me what am I?

Am I memory or fiction?
Machine or flesh?
Is there a purpose beyond surviving,
is there reason before creation?

Floating down a river stream, calmer then calm can be,
my teacher stares at me, speaking words of sympathy.
Where is this life taking you
When the world hands you a towel?
You are going no where fast, slower then a turtle fest

And the tree's look down at me, calling my name to the sea
and the tree's look down at me, calling my name to the sea

The stars they shine so bright,
how could I ever reach you?
And the stars speak through the sky,
how could I ever hear you?
But they hold the key, to this lock of mine
How could you use something, you can not find?

And the tree's look down at me, calling my name to the sea
and the tree's look down at me, calling my name to the sea

But what do I take from you, sympathy tastes like pity,
and what do tree's mean, calling a name that is not me.
Take the towel, and soak up the water, riverbed's dry, so I drink the sand.
The key doesn't fit to this lock of mine, was it a lie, or dis-understanding.

The tree's look down at me, passing into the sea,
and the tree's look down at me, speaking of me, that is not me.