Old shoes (and picture postcards)

We sing in the forest, we dance in the city
We forgot how to stay down
We tried to escape and you look so pretty
But I had a drink and now I think
That my well is yet to be found

Caressing the night with gentle strokes
No one poses a threat to me anymore
Random faces of beautiful things
Started to hit my mind like the night before
Someone tried to make me see
But I said I'm blind willingly

Then I fell on the ground and started to smile
Only to anger the people around
I don't wish for you to understand
But if you lend a helping hand
I'll give you a rose
Poetry and prose