says he's pushed against
the wrong side of the glass,
and he hurts to be on the other side
to touch what he can see,
but never hold;
and his blood is in my veins.
spits out his rhyming words, viciously,
trying to prove that he knows more than me,
dying to feel his worth;
and he thinks he's God,
and could explode because no one else can see it.
and he's down;
and he's invincible.
One day he's gunna live on the road,
says he's gunna have a travelling art show,
with lights and masts and a weathervane,
and people are gunna come from miles around.
His grey hair
and grey eyes
and grey soul
are fading into the fog,
and all the talent in the world
is obscured by his inability
to be human.
Because no one can related to this
got stars in his eyes
and they're shining so bright
they're obscuring the world;
But he swears that one day, once he forges his way,
he'll open his eyes, and his pillow case
will hold all of the dreams from the Windowland--
And he knows this is true,
because he knows everything;
And I'm scared I'll be like him,
because I daydream, too.