The visitor

Verse 1.  
I walk through streets in borrowed skin.  
Every voice feels loud and thin.  
They speak of plans and passing days.  
I watch the world through distant haze.  

The sun comes up. The traffic moves.  
Everyone knows what they must prove.  
But something in me stays apart.  
Like I arrived without a start.  

Pre Chorus.  
Maybe I slipped through the sky one night.  
Maybe I landed outside the light.  

Chorus.  
I feel like an alien looking down.  
At a quiet and ordinary town.  
Everyone moves like they belong.  
But I have drifted all along.  
Gravity holds my body here.  
But my mind stays somewhere unclear.  
If this is home then why does it feel.  
Like I am visiting something real.  

Verse 2.  
I study faces on the train.  
Trying to read their joy and pain.  
They laugh at things I almost know.  
Like memories I should not lose.  

At night I look above the dark.  
Searching the sky for any mark.  
For some forgotten place or sign.  
That tells me where this mind was mine.  

Pre Chorus.  
Maybe the sky forgot my name.  
Maybe I am built a different way.  

Chorus.  
I feel like an alien looking down.  
At a quiet and ordinary town.  
Everyone moves like they belong.  
But I have drifted all along.  
Gravity holds my body here.  
But my mind stays somewhere unclear.  
If this is home then why does it feel.  
Like I am visiting something real.  

Bridge.  
Maybe the strange ones see it clear.  
Maybe distance brings us near.  
Maybe the world is small and loud.  
For quiet minds outside the crowd.  

Final Chorus.  
I am an alien passing through.  
Seeing the world in a different view.  
They call it strange. They call it wrong.  
But maybe this is where I belong.  
If stars are where I start my race.  
Then earth is just a resting place.  
Not lost. Not gone. Not out of grace.  
Just a visitor in the human place.

Sad, rock, pop, punk