let me see through the technicolor haze

the smell of petrichor

dilute my selfish ways

selective sight set to sonder

assume a role in the world’s ensemble

nowhere to go, so i wander

a fitting end to life’s preamble

oh dear if i could see you now

i’d not tell you of the horrors that lie in wait

preserve your ignorant passion

you don’t have to turn into me

Written By: Grant Jordan