At the scope of my own mind moving forward in life leaving the many things behind.
Strange to say, the man a few moments ago isn't the same today.

But then again, who is he if he no longer acts the same,
For in an average world we're all seeming plain. Dripping wet from the many tears of life, being like the rain.

Still I haven't rode through enough oceans of the many tears, for I fear being caught in all the commotion.
And only when I make it to a foreign land I'd have died of exhaustion.
From the idea of being in so many pictures but forgetting what it is to be posing.

So only then do I choose to learn, when the heart slowing burns out as the flesh rises to burn.
And I'll be fighting long days with the flesh, praying for blindness to rescue my eyes when they prey to looking underneath a dress.

So whoever chooses to meet by the scope, shall I save them a place.
But don't let me find you there at your fall of grace. Lest you fill me with worry.
And if that's how we only meet, truly I say I'm quite sorry.