Sometimes I wonder if his hands are all he can see
(Through ****** and pokes he remains hidden) There's looks in the mirror
Pretend.  No that's not me
Only inside he can see, We are blinded outwardly
But somehow he's functioning better than
We ever imagined the crack to be
Maybe it's us cause we are not sick physically
It's more mentally surreality
Cause one does not chose ones journey
That is left to fate but we worry and wail, oh
How frail he is, How frail he might, but
He can move mountains no matter his plight
He can smile and live his fight
Don't wish to know his perseverance
Cause we don't have his might
Don't wish to know the hithero
To see him so pleased in an invisible light
But still there is tension, dry tears, in what he failed to mention