Movement, larger than life
Improvement, but it's riddled with strife
Mistake elation for witnessing colors that run
Can't shake creation and now can't fake all of that fun
Birds of a feather, you know what they say
With nothing to weather they've all gone astray
All lost their way
It's the luck of the draw, no patterns to see
Forget what you saw, ignore what you'll see
From outside your tree
Hollow, a hollowed out tree
Follow every decree
Hear out begrudgingly just about every two cents
Peer out beyond what you thought was the top of your fence
Your grass is still greener, and that much rings true
Maybe it's cleaner or just changing hue
At least in your view
It's the luck of the draw, no reason or rhyme
I know what you saw, so I'll save you the time
You still pantomime
