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Peter Pan Syndrome
My heads up in the skies,
And my judgement in the clouds,
But for me, it's black and white,
I mean, the fact I am sky-bound.
It's a purse in view,
I'd be bankrolling a miracle.
I don't need eagles eyes to see,
That though without flapping wings,
And bone marrows air-filled,
I can hit the skies with a single lift,
Soar the skies with an eagle's wit,
becoming one with the wind.
Arrrrh! All this Cargo,
It's a ferry-sized wave for a fishing boat,
I'll leave it on the runway, on the go,
I wasn't built with it's source code,
Its an operating system overload,
I'd slipping into sleep mode.
Oh yes! I should be in the sky,
but oh no, burnt clouds in sight,
break a leg, the runway is drunk,
I can't ride with these bunch,
They'll drive me crazy,
And I'd be booked for therapy.
I just want to be free,
Light-headed and yet on my feet,
Sleep and wake up to all I can eat.
But no, I have to grow new sets of teeth,
Go from yay ryhmes to boring speech!
What a life! Not mine to Live!
