i'm the magician, turning gravel into potpourri
i'm the concoctionist, mixing fallen leaves together to make a tree
i'm the chameleon, tossing along a rainbow
i'm the soil, beneath moving leaves and falling shadows
i'm the dormant volcano, that may or may not have its day
i'm the south pole, waiting for a summer
i'm the percussionist, posing for a solo
i'm the lone butterfly, living in the belly
i'm the new crayon, itching to draw
i'm the grass at the far edge of a forest fire
i'm the tea, simmering and bitter
i'm the prose, between hand and paper
i'm the concoctionist, mixing fallen leaves together to make a tree
i'm the chameleon, tossing along a rainbow
i'm the soil, beneath moving leaves and falling shadows
i'm the dormant volcano, that may or may not have its day
i'm the south pole, waiting for a summer
i'm the percussionist, posing for a solo
i'm the lone butterfly, living in the belly
i'm the new crayon, itching to draw
i'm the grass at the far edge of a forest fire
i'm the tea, simmering and bitter
i'm the prose, between hand and paper