There it is again in cloudy skies, the witcheswill to compete
but everytime you face my disguise, I feel so incomplete
Empty smiles and stuttered words, I fade with my filthy flaws
and I curse the crucious day, when I had fallen into their claws
Intercultural acquaintances and a pallid palatal drought
I would never ever please you, thats at least what I have thought
But show me that you care for future lecturers and louts
cause Im not good at showing pictures of my silent shouts
Would you call me in the evening when Im at home, alone
Call me of you wanna smoke another– call me when Im stoned
Haunt a shy roe deer and follow the white rump if youre a stag
whether low nor hollow, Im growin dreads and future drags
Mandrake roots and malapropism– tomorrow the ducks will ask
and Ill be lost in scholar schism, my fear of swimming freely will last