Draw Me a Sheep

Lyrics

[Verse 1]
You drew a circle, held it up—
a creature born of seven lines,
and watched the whole world pour itself
through that small gate you'd opened.
Your hand knew what your cortex hadn't mapped yet:
synaptic plasticity firing new pathways
the moment pencil met the page.
You were the instrument and the listener both,
translating loneliness into something
every soul could recognize.

[Chorus]
Your eyes were calibrated for the small and luminous—
the fox, the rose, the boy who needed tending.
You didn't narrate the heart; you *became* its architecture,
and now we live inside the rooms you built.

[Verse 2]
In the desert, sand became your mirror.
Theta waves synchronizing between page and sky,
your mirror neurons firing in the gaze of anything abandoned.
You felt what needed to be found—not lost, but *seen*—
and your hands remembered every stroke like long-term potentiation:
strength through repetition, meaning crystallized.
The engine fails. The compass spins.
But that small prince walks your page eternal,
and we follow, thirsty, into your geometry of grace.

[Chorus]
Your eyes were calibrated for the small and luminous—
the fox, the rose, the boy who needed tending.
You didn't narrate the heart; you *became* its architecture,
and now we live inside the rooms you built.

[Bridge]
You taught the world that seeing is a choice,
that tenderness is muscular, is *work*—
axonal branching toward what matters most.
Your interoception precise as prayer:
you felt the planet's spinning loneliness
and answered it with light.

[Chorus]
Your eyes were calibrated for the small and luminous—
the fox, the rose, the boy who needed tending.
You didn't narrate the heart; you *became* its architecture,
and now we live inside the rooms you built.

[Outro]
That circle holds. That prince still walks.
Seven lines—the most complete rebellion
against the weight of everything too large to love.