They said his clothes were never quite in style
In the past, he'd always have a smile
He'd wander through the circles of his friends
Talking close, where the laughter never ends
I always saw he saw a little more
But never saw him show what was in store
It was subtle, almost childlike, the way he'd play
Hiding his gaze between the laughs of the day
From afar, some said: He's acting strange
But few could see what he wouldn't rearrange
Nothing illegal, immoral, or that kind of weight
Just the burden of a vision only he could state
I always saw he saw too much, too far
Connected to things beyond the furthest star
One day, by a nuance, I'm not sure why
He seemed to speak, to let the truth go by
He didn't dress like the normal world would do
He didn't fit any social class they knew
He felt no fear, or at least he didn't show
Like a non-human, but that couldn't be, I know
Moving through infinite variations in time
Struggling to fit in every uphill climb
He was moldable, to the pain he'd just adjust
Adaptable, dynamic, shaking off the dust
Then one afternoon, just a certain time
On a common day, trivial and prime
I looked at him and saw what he had done
Handwritten in the corner, out of everyone
He left it on the table of a bar
Walking out smiling, watching from afar
In ink he wrote: I woke up way too soon
And didn't catch the world's rhythm or its tune
So I settled for the commercials in the afternoon
