| Sleeping by myself With him lying next to me I'm dreaming by myself While his pseudo-world Is being created Without me how this can Be I'm not sure And How we could be holding the same Truth I'm not sure. But we're not. My hair is blonde, But to him he makes it What he wants it to be, But black it isn't how he can believe it Is I'm not sure And How we could be holding the same Truth I'm not sure. We aren't... So as I walk into his pseudo-world In search for his soul, his mind, His spirit, My heart screams out to him to visit my Dreams of reality where it all makes sense, Where we know which way the wind is blowing and what makes it blow that way, The place where we can face each other And smile our tears away We can take hold hands and feel the breeze And let our bodies fly away... tamara shah august 30, 1999 |
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