They said his clothes were never quite in style In the past, he'd always have a smile He'd wander through the circles of his friends Talking close, where the laughter never ends I always saw he saw a little more But never saw him show what was in store It was subtle, almost childlike, the way he'd play Hiding his gaze between the laughs of the day From afar, some said: He's acting strange But few could see what he wouldn't rearrange Nothing illegal, immoral, or that kind of weight Just the burden of a vision only he could state I always saw he saw too much, too far Connected to things beyond the furthest star One day, by a nuance, I'm not sure why He seemed to speak, to let the truth go by He didn't dress like the normal world would do He didn't fit any social class they knew He felt no fear, or at least he didn't show Like a non-human, but that couldn't be, I know Moving through infinite variations in time Struggling to fit in every uphill climb He was moldable, to the pain he'd just adjust Adaptable, dynamic, shaking off the dust Then one afternoon, just a certain time On a common day, trivial and prime I looked at him and saw what he had done Handwritten in the corner, out of everyone He left it on the table of a bar Walking out smiling, watching from afar In ink he wrote: I woke up way too soon And didn't catch the world's rhythm or its tune So I settled for the commercials in the afternoon