I look out the window
I see the sky
I watch these birds fly by
They glide with the wind
Rise up against the swells
Where they go no one tells
It is all a mystery
The way the birds fly
The reasons people always die
The reason I'm always alone
Remains completely unknown
Atleast to me
It may be easy for others to see
But I know not
This is my plot
And im alright with it
So long as I get to watch
For watching brings no pain
It is only in the actual act of soaring
That one can ever fall
So whats the point of trying at all?