Looking through a smoke
                                                           I see all different colours and shapes
                                                           knowing they don't exist
                                                            but still beautiful anyway
                                                            Like in dreams they change so fast
                                                            they are what they want
                                                            careless and happily flow
                                                            Soon they'll vanish
                                                            disappear in the air
                                                            travel to the clouds above
                                                             up,up where even birds don't dare
                                                             Sometimes I wish I was a smoke
                                                              to be what I want,to do what I want
                                                               without anyone telling me don't
                                                               But that's just stupid,farytales for little kids
                                                               that's not possible but who am I to ruin anyone's dreams.