The Beat of Your Own Drum

Roaming around lonesome with no friend to speak My days have reached there peak I can and only think To express this missing lost trink With destanys that have not been seen From the likes of any beings I cease to exist now with altered perception indefinitely striving measuring up a certain perfection My etheric body which does not have a physical form Is on a path that cannot be walked upon This cannot be seen, heard or felt But can only be reached by knowing ones self