The urge to pin my feelings down
As we pass yet another town
A flock of sheep, another horse
And the fields surrounding them, of course
And the little streams, they look like canyons
While an uncomfortable chair is my companion
Slowing down, then speeding up
Down the hill, then reaching the top
Only the clouds keep up with us
As if to win a race, as if they must
Our progress, it seems, is much too slow
I feel the urge, the need to go
The paper is capturing the ink
While the fluid copies the way I think
A voice, a message from long ago
Ushers me to dance to the radio
A person joins me and a person leaves
And I'm arriving late, so I believe
The rain had made it's arriving mark
By draining Heaven's colours and making it dark
If I could fly, I'd face the rain
But I would never be late again
But also, on a stormy day
A powerful wind could blow me away
And I might lose my way while flying around
For I know the route only from the ground
But I could always follow the track
Which would lead me there, then bring me back
But as I'd arrive at my final station
I would be seen as an abomination
I'd become a target of despise
Jealousy and hatred in everyone's eyes
So the ability of flight has no means to hide
The obviousness of it's bottom side
But a human flying, for crying out loud
What do I even worry about
As the green and the trees all pass me by
I gaze from my window and wonder why
I question when, am puzzled by how
I'm certain of here, I'm reasoning now
I wonder much about nothing special
My thoughts, most times, are quite superficial
Or maybe they're actually going quite deep
For on many occasions, they grant me no sleep
And often I know not of what I am thinking
Into which complexities I have been sinking
Into general problems, for all to see
Or personal troubles, concerning me
Am I questioning moments from the past
Or hoping the future will begin, at last
My mind is filled with numerous stories it tells
The thoughts therein could come from someone else
Thinking, thinking, day and night
My mind is always occupied
My thoughts can be confusing and inconsistent
Therefore, at times, I might seem distant
By words, I frequently can't be reached
Even trying would be a waste of speech
Often minutes, hours after words are spoken
My conscious and attention are finally woken
If you tell me a joke, you will have to wait
I might get it approximately three hours late
A personal problem that you wish to throw out
In a week I might grasp what you were talking about
The arrival of a story really takes some time
For it joins all my thoughts, which are waiting in line
Again we slow down, my arrival is due
My mind has grown weary, my body has too
A two-hour sleep was not nearly enough
Still, I'm standing in line now, I need to get off
The doors reveal pavement, it welcomes my feet
Whom I now obey; I choose them to lead
I find that my feet have come to a halt
Because my ears have detected that my name's being called
My neck moves my head and turns it around
While my eyes start scanning for the source of the sound
They scan the people, the buildings, everything, everywhere
Though without a result; the source is not there
It comes from the train, which is really quite odd
A train so familiar, my own train of thought