It’s the wanderlust souls who escaped from the tedious bodies, they inhabited. Only to spread its wings and fly along the sky’s terrain. Whom who hears the birds chirping at 3 am are shedding its human skin, As a reptile would before it enters a new realm of existence. It feels different. It’s soothing. It’s calming. It’s the feeling of earl grey tea submerging the taste buds on the white blanket lying on the tongue in the morning. Who hears the birds chirping at 3 am? Is it the wanderlust souls whose restless eyeballs glistens in the night or the lonely stoner who finds serenity in the hugs of the ghosts he is hiding?