Oh, Locur. Dont you see? The shine of your hair, the paint on my sheets?

The wind going there, but feet right here.

Under your body, and standing on ground. Don't you see that love _is _found?

Beautifully made, crafted in time, ponders on thoughts, more than a dime.

We need this world, we love it too, Ofcourse there's more to do.

Look at the moon, the stars, the sky. Up so high, I wish I could fly.

To touch it there, share for a second straight, look at it so and make it rain.

Feel it so close, feeling so free, look at you, and look at me!

But oh no, woe is me, I've got caught up in all these trees.

In all these heights, in all these lights, all new things, and oh so bright.

Its seems my old life got boring. So whats the moral of the story?

Oh, locur.

Don't let yourself float away to the moon, or you’ll miss the flowers under your feet that bloom.