It's been a long while since a physical shell. It's been a long time since we started this trip. First attempt, first world, now I'm going back down, getting pulled back down. Getting little glimpses. I planned more than I usually do. Little windows to the future. Who would've thought this little thing could be me. In the timeless place I did the work that I needed to do. My ultimate creation: My trajectory. All major interactions and players are set. I wrote a truly great plot that I'll forget. Now forty sun cycles later I feel the pull, most natural call whispering. Funneling me down from subtle vibration to the grossest of physical manifestations.

Chorus:
Remember we were anarchists? Living off the bounty we nothing but the food in the dumpster and we loved it. Remember we were nomads? Surviving off nothing, no money, outside all summer and we loved it. Remember we were healers? Meditating all day. Getting trained to wield power, let the worlds holy light shine through us and we loved it. And we loved it. And we loved it.

My last lesson; it's not about rebellion but that was necessary. Now I'm deep in this plan I wrote myself. Long since forgotten, it exists like a secret grain of sand shining light on my path. I'm in the ten million things, lost, trying to remember. It's pointless. I'm co-creating consciously with the part of my self I left behind when I was out there. I knew I'd be in here, so I created "in here." It suits the needs of out there. When I'm out there it's for a reason. That's part of my plan, that's my mission. I don't know it but I can glimpse it. The misery comes when you're off course, out of your trajectory. At least that's how it is for me. I created paradise to grow the most beautiful thing that I could be. Then I was born.

Chorus

I was born. I was born. Yes, I was born a fully grown man lying cold on my deathbed. Growing down like Merlin Ambrosius through time like backwards.