Harvest

Keeping me in here is torture at its worst
Got a feeling that this wretched place is cursed

each and every day is coming down to nought
while tedious routines really got me caught

inspiration has long gone
while this life just carries on
and I bore myself to death
while the artificial lights
are burning days and nights
as I work hard to pay my debts

And I yearn for simpler times than these
And I yearn for noone to appease

and I've got a cunning plan
to get off this frying pan
and to get me out of here
A helium balloon
To take off very soon
And fly off towards new frontiers

Sitting in my chair and watch the world float by
The wind is in my hair as I ascend the sky

Towards uncertain land
dreams and fears go hand in hand
who might know what tomorrow brings
new worlds to be explored
and no time for being bored
so excited by these things

I don't know how far these winds may blow
And I don't know if I'll be coming home

I had this cunning plan
to get off the frying pan
and to get me out of here
A helium balloon
That took off one afternoon
And flew off towards new frontiers