indigo night

• ımagine, the girls around town assemble
  the traveler’s son they come askin’
  where he came from
  ‘cause they’ve watched him
  washing his face near the pond
  a curious boy and they wonder
  where he came from
  
  he says: “ı, ı have seen the world’s most beautiful places,
  still ı feel, as ıf ı’m a walking machine,
  watching it all through a screen
  there is nothing in between to me
  this might as well not be real”
  
  ımagine, the girls take him up on a hill
  ıt’s an ındigo night, there’s a chill
  the boy is confused but he’s still
  as they gather around him
  so many of them, they all sing
  about the pleasures of life
  
  and he cries: "why can’t ı sing along with some feeling, or some meaning?
  ıt feels like ı’ve always been blind.
  ı don’t know why you girls are so kind,
  for there are so many in line
  whose lives aren’t as lost as mine”
  
  now something happened there,
  the smell of the grass, or maybe the air
  there was no more despair
  just something about that night
  maybe the girls, they lit some light,
  and made everything right
  ‘cause he’s never been
  more alive