Sitting in a room of color My taste is like no other Across the Fabric plains, My brother Too many times I am the Other Taking pictures with my mind Seeing things that aren't so kind So innocently we have sinned To the Forests, we will hide But the Wind, it preaches in Our learning minds Watching the young become the old And the old being set Free This is where we walked to And slept under our spirit tree Looking to the east end of town Thinking of the lonely clown For once I think I saw Him wearing a frown Stuck in these days of cold Feeling like everything is old
