Cycling through memories of the past
Looking at some long, and others go fast
Staring in the mirror, i don't see my face
Wishing i could do something for a taste
Like a ship pushed by a sail on a mast
Compelled to write, perfection outside grasp
Trying not to fall and be without grace
Like a lucid dreamer, getting desires
I sketch a picture of what i will make
Done with my own two hands, freely molding
I'm trying to be sincere and not fake
It will have to be refined by the fires
Be like the creation, never folding
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