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(Chris Dreja / Jim McCarty / Jeff Beck / Keith Relf / Paul Samwell-Smith) |
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Looking at the world around, |
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For the very first time. |
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Never seen it all before, |
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Hope it's not all mine. |
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On Monday morning all alone, |
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I woke within my house of stone. |
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I ventured forth unto the day, |
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These things I saw upon my way. |
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Trees and flowers were wrapped around, |
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With people's castoffs on the ground. |
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Roads and noise of glass and steel, |
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And people snared within the wheel. |
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Tuesday looked into the sky, |
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Where birds in peace were left to fly. |
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Thunder rolled and lightning flashed, |
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I watched the world as people dashed. |
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Friday's sadness began to creep, |
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Upon me like the deepest sleep. |
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It seemed that only I could see, |
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Just what my world would finally be. |
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On Sunday back inside my room, |
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I draw the blinds, 'tis afternoon. |
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I let my mind find its own ways, |
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Farewell to future days. |
