I look into their eyes, and wonder with a care.
To keep them from oppression, I ponder and I stare.
Images come easy, of Pooh and blustery day.
As they lay they're sleeping, and even when they play.

The world has many portals, they see right through your soul.
As mystics try to find the way, I guess I already know.
Buried in each one of us, are things that cause us pain.
So everyone becomes, a victim in the game

The only magic altruistic, is what's inside our soul.
So I look into their eyes, and I guess I already know.
A lover a friend their all the same, they don't know up from down.
Cause most won't slip inside themselves, to see what they have found.
The path it drives many to drink, and some they have their fix.
But still what breaks each one apart, are all the stones and sticks.

To look into my children's eyes, I see inside of me.
So if I try to find my way, it's always plain to see.
At times it's hard to be outward, and see what is my show.
But when I need to know myself, I guess already know.