Within, without and beyond. Stay frosty baby. I want to make us fly. To lift off, and sail away.  But I cannot move, because the ground weighs heavily, and the fog refuses to lift.  There is some little rebel in me, there on the left of me. Knocking on the door, clawing, screaming. Release me it says,  I want out, I want to reach the sky.  And also there somewhere in me, near the forehead. There is two lightning bolts firing off fusilade after fusilade.  What traitors. They show everything at the same time as the head screams no.  That little rebel. Do you remember? It's breaking through. I think it shows that which I have tried to hide. I put the lid on tighter. But it keeps fluttering, like a pack of wild butterflies in disarray.  In the mine,  deep down there some idiot is still  mining ore. As if believing it can be transformed into gold and diamonds.  Yes it does sparkle. But all that glitter isn't gold. Some is merely dressed up dust.  If you want to get in there,  into my depths. You are going to need more than a pick and spade, my friend. You need comprehensive coverage, an Atlas, GPS and truth serum; one dose per hour.  When you're in, remember this; don't lie baby, or you are gonna slide all the way back down.