somewhere i survive off what i grow in my garden
somewhere the simple pleasure of eating foods i love, doesn't physically ail me
somewhere i only exercise what is good, for my body, mind and soul
somewhere a painted face and a feather decorated neck is typical
somewhere my personality is not suppressed or mainstreamed
somewhere my hair is free to grow as long as it desires, untrimmed
somewhere my creativity flows, my dreams flourish and come true
somewhere i should feel lonely, on my own; but don't
somewhere my perfume, is that of the smoke from burning ambers
somewhere i can dream of no where else i'd rather be,
somewhere the night song of the wolves, is my lullaby
somewhere simplicity is normality,
somewhere i never have to wear pants,
somewhere restless nights, are a foreign concept,
somewhere my heart only flutters at the beauty of life, not stress
somewhere my fingers never get tired of playing my guitar,
somewhere my bones are never chilled to their core,
somewhere i smile at the memories of us,
somewhere my last thought every night, is the image of your face
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