if you woke up one Saturday and not see me,
please waste not an ounce of worry, it won't suit me;
nor even waste your voice calling, shouting my name,
it may not reach me though, 'cause I'm gone far away.
search not for me in the woods, you won't find me there,
or dare journey the drylands, the sea or the air;
yes, you might reach me... but to turn back, ask me not,
for this quest's my will; that not even you can stop.
this ain't just a favor I'm returning to you,
this flight is for YOU, and all its little steps too,
...aimed to pick up the pieces of the smiles you've lost,
and bring them to your lips, where all joys fit the most.