You ever feel like running away
hideing your face, and not to come back
the smell of the grass, the feel of the wind
always looking back to see if you win
a crazed new adventure around every corner
closeing your eyes wishing you could her her
searching, and searching for something unfound
feelin as low as an ant on the ground
unsatisfied when you finnaly reach the top
for when you look down, you hate to go back
only to return with a heart so black
