Michael Thygesen Biography

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“Dear boy, why do you cry in the window? ”
“Well sir, I cry over my fair lady.”
“Yes, but why look down at the river flow
Whilst you do this, you look awfully shady.”
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I can't see them anymore,
Not while in the city.
These artificial lights act as a shield,
Blocking out the real light,
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Weaving in and out of these clouds of white
Ever flying and flying, keep searching till night.
Wind hits these wings and try as I might
I cannot go down, I'm as high as a kite.
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