There's a hand in my pocketnsearching for change.nThere's a man in the mirror,nhis hair's turning grey.nHis first (?) crashing through the air, constant despairnand I lost my copy of Vanity Fair.nNow that you've come this far, n(come this far)ncan you accept who you are?n(Who you are)nHorizonsnWith eyes staring wide open, an African childnHe taught me how to blink and I couldn't smile.nThen I spoke to the silence drawn with a (?), fade with a laughternFrom the well of clear water, the remnants of hope echoed afternNow that hating's been donen(the hating's done)nand you've no qualms with anyonen(no qualms with anyone)nHorizons