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i wonder what made you this way,
shy and afraid, you look south instead of north, and east instead of west.
i have to follow you while carrying dirt,
hidden by flowers, growing through the cracks
of my back,
showing you things i like in our track.

and who told you to leave me unattended?
where's our bucket?
which way is to the gold?
who told you to tell me those funny funny things and make me laugh,
when my body is so obviously deformed from chasing you,
so obviously tired?

"i know we must belong outside," i say, i don't care (or think) if it's dangerous.
can you sing a song?
you were holding my hand all along,
and i had to follow you carrying dirt,
because, this here, outside is where we belong.