Look Twice

cinematic, ambient, orchestral, acoustic guitar, cello, electronic, dance, soundtrack

STUDIO

They cut the grass on Monday,
Left the edges looking neat.
By Thursday, fresh daisies
Had returned along the street.

No one came to plant them,
No one chose the shade of white.
They were simply growing
Where the earth allowed them light.

It's strange how we can notice
Every flower that's unusual,
And walk straight past a hundred
That have always been around.

By the roadside, little daisies
Turn their faces to the light.
This simple patch of white
Has always been in sight.

Not everything that's lovely
Has to take us by surprise.
Some things are worth a second look
Because they're always in our lives.

We tend to give our attention
To the things that stand apart.
The unexpected colour,
The impressive work of art.

But there are quiet variations
In the things we think we know.
No two days are ever the same,
We just don't always see how.

And maybe being familiar
Doesn't mean we truly see.
We can know a thing for years
And miss what it has always been.

By the roadside, little daisies
Turn their faces to the light.
This simple patch of white
Has always been in sight.

Not everything that's lovely
Has to take us by surprise.
Some things are worth a second look
Because they're always in our lives.

We have a curious way
Of putting value into things.
A little more for what is rare,
A little less for what returns.

We seem to need the world to change,
With something different every day.
We look beyond what's always there,
Forgetting what we once found new.

But I have seen a thousand daisies,
And not one asked to be admired.
They don't become more beautiful
Because somebody stops nearby.

The daisies line the roadside,
As they have year after year.
I wonder how much I've been missing
Of the things that stayed so near.

Not everything that's lovely
Has to take us by surprise.
Some things are worth a second look
Because they're always in our lives.

I've walked this way a hundred times,
Past flowers I could always find.
Today I see a little more
Of what was there all the time.

They'll probably cut the grass again.
The street will look the same.
And somewhere in a week or two,
The daisies will return.

2133/7500

They cut the grass on Monday, Left the edges looking neat. By Thursday, fresh daisies Had returned along the street. No one came to plant them, No one chose the shade of white. They were simply growing Where the earth allowed them light. It's strange how we can notice Every flower that's unusual, And walk straight past a hundred That have always been around. By the roadside, little daisies Turn their faces to the light. This simple patch of white Has always been in sight. Not everything that's lovely Has to take us by surprise. Some things are worth a second look Because they're always in our lives. We tend to give our attention To the things that stand apart. The unexpected colour, The impressive work of art. But there are quiet variations In the things we think we know. No two days are ever the same, We just don't always see how. And maybe being familiar Doesn't mean we truly see. We can know a thing for years And miss what it has always been. By the roadside, little daisies Turn their faces to the light. This simple patch of white Has always been in sight. Not everything that's lovely Has to take us by surprise. Some things are worth a second look Because they're always in our lives. We have a curious way Of putting value into things. A little more for what is rare, A little less for what returns. We seem to need the world to change, With something different every day. We look beyond what's always there, Forgetting what we once found new. But I have seen a thousand daisies, And not one asked to be admired. They don't become more beautiful Because somebody stops nearby. The daisies line the roadside, As they have year after year. I wonder how much I've been missing Of the things that stayed so near. Not everything that's lovely Has to take us by surprise. Some things are worth a second look Because they're always in our lives. I've walked this way a hundred times, Past flowers I could always find. Today I see a little more Of what was there all the time. They'll probably cut the grass again. The street will look the same. And somewhere in a week or two, The daisies will return.

0/500