The strangeness of our inner soul that we sense at times in our daily lives. |
Stranger in my name Stranger with my deeds Stranger in my dreams Stranger in my needs Stranger I am In all my ways Stranger at the night And even with the days. Stranger are the roads I pass behind my wheels Stranger in the mirror From my face to my heels. Stranger is the breeze Silking my skin Stranger is the sunshine Be bright or be dim. Stranger are the voices I hear the passerby Stranger are my illusions Making low making me high. Stranger are the sounds, I cherish or I fear, Stranger are my memories, Of the hatred and the dear. Stranger I am, To the soul I touch, Stranger to the people, I love so much. Stranger to this life, I seek for the shore, Where I get to unveil my strangeness More and more. Stranger to my whims I peep inside my heart, I find the strangers gone for good Upsetting and tart. For life will be a stranger To all of us who needs, To know the worth of our subsistence And all our fancies and deeds. With all the twists and turns I faced, I read the book named life, A jiffy touch and a jaunty word Yet so strange and rife. |