The Islander

Busy sidewalks, crowded streets
Lonely pathways full of padded feets

There's a gentle buzzing of a stirring awe
Listening to people voicing all the shit they saw

In the world there is a place
With a single, solitary face
They live alone, they thrive alone
Which is fine for them, it is their home

There's too much pressure in the world
To be like others, no oysters or pearls
Each given from the gods of the sky
Are stolen by others, you'll never know why

So, each day I dream of the solitary face
They might as well be living in the depths of outer space
They know the world in which the live,
Happy as hell, there's no pressure to give.
Spending mornings beach side, embracing the waves
Thoughtless in moonlight, there's no electronics to crave

The melody of functionality is the tune that they play
But if they could trade lives with mine, I doubt they would stay

The injustice of this world is the uncertainty of anything
There is no perfection, and that's fine...
But there's certainly a bottom to the bottomless mine

The Islander dreams of seeing just one other face...
The beauty of life is that my dream is for never-ending space