Cruising up above me, bourne up aloft on an easy wind
Sweeping down the valley, curving up the slope
Floating diving turning twisting to me again
Cursing the crick in the nape of my neck
I squint both my eyes, to focus on the speck
A floating flying tiny tender dandelion seed
And I can taste the irony
That I would think so much of me
To imagine I know anything at all
This little seed with tiny wings
Can fly higher than I've ever dreamed
Freely soaring to where I'll never be
Isn't that a humbling thing
Cruising down the freeway, born in the land of the muscle cars
Sweeping through the corners, turning up the beat
Flying rising breathless artificial octane steed
Cursing the price at the gasoline pump
I peel out the station, let's get out of this dump
Reckless, foolish, empty, riding on a hurricane
But I can taste the irony
That I would think so much of me
To imagine I go anywhere at all
This little car I ride inside
Could keep on driving after I die
Win the gold at the auto show in 2093
As I go through life I'm constantly humbled by how small and how limited I am
And yet when i keep my heart open, I feel this call in the wind, and the warm sun - to be Like that dandelion seed floating in the breeze, tiny and powerless on my own, but lofted Up to the limitless sky by this powerful breeze beneath me. To admit my need to be lifted Up, and shown the eternal horizon stretching out before me.
So fly, dandelion fly