bird's eye view
As time passes me by, I do not pay attention.
I act as though I am a part of this world - talking to people, listening to them, interacting.
But it is all a lie. I am dead, an observer watching this world take its course.
I sit back in my watchtower in a whole other dimension, watching and pretending.
Its all an act.
This surreal blood runs through my veins, keeping me alive and in this place.
Only when I am soaring through the sky, the wind blown through every follicle and nerve on my body, that I actually feel.
I feel.
I feel real.
I know.
I know I am real.
I know the truth.
And I look up at the passion and inferno drenched sky. And let go.
I act as though I am a part of this world - talking to people, listening to them, interacting.
But it is all a lie. I am dead, an observer watching this world take its course.
I sit back in my watchtower in a whole other dimension, watching and pretending.
Its all an act.
This surreal blood runs through my veins, keeping me alive and in this place.
Only when I am soaring through the sky, the wind blown through every follicle and nerve on my body, that I actually feel.
I feel.
I feel real.
I know.
I know I am real.
I know the truth.
And I look up at the passion and inferno drenched sky. And let go.