Out of blind eyes I can not see.

A whole world is out there, waiting for me.

I feel the breeze, I smell the air,

But too many times I find it not fair.

Oh what I'd give to see what I sense

the little girls laughing beside the picketed fence.

What does it feel like to see what you feel?

In my eyes it is like the whole world is still.

I am an artist, painting what I want

What if I open my eyes and become so distraught.

I don't want a glimpse of the world that's around me.

What if, perhaps, I don't like what I see?