I know what I knew, long time ago.
I sloth on what I should let go.
Temperature is rising to burn my forehead.
Since you aren't here to lay a wet cloth on me, lying fatigued on my bed.
I know I'm not so direct;
But your memories have almost completely burnt my head.
I've always felt so severely inflicted with loneliness with my intellect.
I've found not one that can really understand what I say.
I say one, and they perceive that I'm behind.
I've always found that, I'm not like the rest.
I fall, and I get up from my dust.
I know I'm not the best.
I lay awake all the while you think I waste my time.
I know - me and you - we aren't the same.
But the ground of reality that I'm inferring to seems so lame to the sane.
I'm here getting drenched by my own rain.
People that call themselves sane are not the same.
While I contemplate the things I've thought in my brain,
Go to sleep;
To assume to have known my name is a good game.
But I'm not intending to take it to fame.
I'll lay awake until one day I'll hit the grave.
That's the common place we all enter,—
As we came.
Humans and their sense of rented claim!