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Ballad of the Introverted Idealist
Fingers on the glass,
Breaths form condensation.
Looking through the window,
You’re on the outside peering in.
This life isn’t real,
You question the reality.
Living the world inside your head’s
The only way to immortality.
Feeling left out can be bleak,
Comfort is a luxury.
Trudging through the snow,
Where you were deserted intellectually.
This life isn’t real,
You question the reality.
Living the world inside your head’s
The only way to immortality.
Your only equal is yourself
So you might as well surrender
The search for other dreamers,
For there was never a contender.
This life isn’t real,
You question the reality.
Living the world inside your head’s
The only way to immortality.
Maybe the place where you can truly,
And contently be yourself
Is the head upon your shoulders
Where imagination lies in wealth.
This life isn’t real,
You question the reality.
Living the world inside your head’s
The only way to immortality.
Though the fantasies within
Can be so pleasing and imposing,
You can’t live inside yourself forever
Or you might end up imploding.
This life isn’t real,
You question the reality.
Living the world inside your head’s
The only way to immortality.
But I’m stuck inside my mind,
Responsibilities eroding.
I can withstand society
Only by unfolding...
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