I have a mountain to climb,
And, I have a desert to design.

I am a forest without a soul,
And I am young and I am old.

Comfortable in a room,
A power window with a powdered view,
Five fuzzy skulls.
Fresh air, force.

Hermits meditate along the lines-

I am old and I can be young like peoples_you see,
And, I went to the lights, to sell my body for such a mystery.

And you beg for options?