What are you doing
When I'm not really looking?
Do I want to know?

Walking through imaginary woods
I tripped over a root strangely square
Fell and hit my head on a log
And radically, I'm still there.

Nobody knows me
I am a stranger to all
Especially me.

Maybe I don't notice the little things.
Like the way your mouth looks when it forms my name.
Or the way you feel steadier with your hand in mine.
Or even the way your fingernail is chipped from playing guitar for me.
But what I do notice is your eyes.
How they have little golden flecks in the soft green.
Green that's like a meadow in the summer that's more prominent in the sun.
I often stare into those eyes.
Trying to catch a glimpse of what you see in me.

I'm in a bad perspective
Selfish in my worldview
I apolpgize for judging everyone
I'm just as messed up as you.

Some people call me young
But to others, I am old.
How you see me depends
On the way my impression is sold.

Passion leads
This fool follows.