I admit, I am a selfish one, I do not appreciate my wealth instead I overflow with desire, and I cant break this mist, this missing And sure all fog consists of individual droplets I know there's water to the haze And this body' s not homely, it roars and blazes Now do I too lack a space for me alone still staying in the old crib I often feel I need to pick myself up, out of the craddle I know I should be grateful I can tell there are solid matters to find below sky line Like the souls I found lingering on these moors They are not all air shaped The bed is not creaky and the walls stay raised. But the fog still lays thick upon the eye lids