A way of being treated like a prose.
Even though the people could relate,
Maybe only one already knows,
A world of words and music by the great.
Perhaps another day of life is fleeting.
An endless journey through a world so vast,
Surrounded by a thousand shades of pleasing,
See the people from the distant past.
I often wonder whether false or fleeting,
Being followed by an endless prose,
Feeling like a thousand years of pleasing,
Yet the only one already knows.
The future could become a new conception!
And even though the facts of life is fleeting,
Yet perhaps a story does not mention,
A depths of space between the blank and pleasing.
Surrounded by an ancient error sheer.
Yet perhaps the future only fleeting,
Wander on a journey through a mere,
Never see the slightest sight of pleasing.
Are guided by a distant vision gleaming,
Upon the vast grandeur of the new conception,
Through a hundred thousand shades of pleasing,
Like an echo from the fifth dimension.
