Holding on the poles apart,

As I look for my breath.

And everyday, to the doors of dawn,

As I live for my death.

And me caught up in the fire of your hands,

And so naïve, till I grow,

And naïve, till I grow,

I look for some skies on the sand.

And slowly, the wind that tells me,

I am truly a foreigner.

And till I wait for some trees to bend down,

For bridges I could cross

And till then I am a leaf in autumn.

I’m a foreigner.

And it’s the road that I see with my eyes,

So truly I’ve belonged to you,

So truly I’ve tried.

And love like infections,

I’ve been taking all on me,

And so sleepy I’ve grown

Slumber-some without your arms.

And slowly as your touch that tells me,

I’m not meant to be sleepy,

‘Cause the path I’ve carried on

I’m a foreigner all along.

And like some nails that hung,

I’m a truth without a tongue.

And as the joys that I meet,

I’ve burdens upon my feet.

And like the legato of a parade,

I draw back into wane.

I’ve known some trees,

That now grow from my leftover seeds,

But they grow taller to me.

And slowly as the sunlight tells me,

Like spring I must go,

I’m some seasons, for climates I can’t be,

With clothings I’m not meant to be,

And till the end of the world,

I try to be a foreigner.

And slowly as I crawl into the bells,

I’m ears to all gospels,

And then the priests, that he fathoms me,

Like I’m some poison ivy,

And as he throws it to my hands,

I find myself crude but futile as sand,

But he teaches a lesson that he sent.

And slowly, the music that tells me,

I’m too narrow for glee,

And as it sings on the tails,

It makes me realize, I’m onto some rails.

God’s for me but only in slumber

And I carry on like a foreigner.

And slowly, as I follow this lead,

I grow cumbersome like me.

The rainbows, I’ve walked on, the rains that I drank,

I realize the over molten ice, I’ve banked,

Tomorrow’s a day and the likes of it,

And I’ll walk along, until I’ve rest,

I’ll look beneath the adage, old

A warm but foreign nest.