Transition

The park was all full of squirrels and dogs
The weather ruled by a continental October
Lights your back
Of rays of acolyte
The fact of being oneself is not a flaw anymore
No time, no matter
Everything drives you kiddish again
Naive again
Though you can aim for it now
'Cause you're not a child anymore
The air is fresh
Freezing, fresh, invisible
In that mud place
Where everything's new to our eyes