Flight Of The Irresolute

We grow bored of the same old routine too quickly these days. We never take time to realize that the same old routine that we get sick of is the routine that keeps our life in balance, the success formula that has endured over time before us, the lifeblood of our civilization. If an errant crow decided to fly his own migratory pattern apart from his murder, what did he accomplish whether he makes it or not? I have always asked myself this question, yet never found the answer; I simply am too busy flying a different pattern to have found the right set of answers :).

Tall tales of black crows and white doves
I feel I've been cast from the murder
I'm not the same one you heard of
Stuck in a new form of disorder
I've flown this pattern all of my life
A new challenge awaits the beyond
I am ready to take it this time
But I'm not ready to move on

I can't see myself anymore
I refuse to be myself anymore
I wonder if I will change with the winds of time
But the jet stream seems preoccupied

Wave - smile at me
Take a while with me
Make me feel at home tonight
I don't feel alright
Hey - try to see
Deep inside of me
Take me away from this catastrophe
Somewhere else to be, there has to be
Somewhere else to be

I look to the echelon flanking me
Fly left and pair up where I seem to fit
They soar with a pattern I've never seen
And I spread my wings to glide in it
After a while, the pattern grows dull
Since I've mastered it, I fly alone
I think back to the murder of crows
That bid me to fly on my own

I can't see myself anymore
I just opened and closed my own doors
I wonder if I will change with the winds of time
But the jet stream seems preoccupied