My own Head?
Oh, sweet I, what is I?
What does thee see my searching eye?
The trees that pierce the ground
or the spirits in between?
Oh, tell me, tell me please!
Give me rest, give me peace.

This Ego I keep relating to;
does it bare my name
or bares it me?
I felt it once, something strange;
a burning urge to rearrange
myself and what is me and I,
but where to start?
Where to start?

In the beginning of my day I always go to sleep
in a pure hope of leaving the darkness outside
and dream of the millions of suns
each with a different story to tell
of the millions of years that passed
and all the atoms that changed.
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