Is there not this way inside
I can switch on like a TV
Is there a weed and a buttercup
Hidden deeply within me?
Is there not a song I’ve lost
Down trodden roads forgotten
Is there notes that weave away
The rocks at the very bottom
Is there not a deafening flow
Where grease is washed from my hair
Is there a me that is more than bones
And I witness both sides of the pair
Is there all of this and more
Cycled a million times through
These colours,
This dance
This patterned dream
This life I do how I do.
