I hold myself around...
the field seems to never end
I cannot allow myself to be bound
even as the are bends
Too many pupils picking up the light
I reflect in this walled gardens
It seems, I have lost my way of flight
yet the voices followed let me to
pardons
I cannot hide my voice
I just have to let me out
even if the are too many noise
standing-in is less as moving south
yet file stand in this field
with too many compass
to direct me, this ground is mild
even as the sun heats up as time pass.
