The Power of embodiment is visual
Thought it seems life will turn pitiful
It is not compared to the waiving lights
Upon the dark city nights
Seeing all those famillar faces
Going to some strange places
War within is always occurring
Always to be reassuring,
That we are all human
While those little ovules are sure to be blooming
We see that life is surreal
Giving us all that edgy thrill
The power of embodiment is grasping,
At the tiny strings attaching us to what is seen
As the real world.