it was about a year ago today, this evening
i had this Pain, an attack
it prompted me to call, hang up and never call back
your voice on the line; my tears on my side. for months I wept
maybe for nothing else, the solitary, lonely place I have always dwelled
lost in my mind or Lost in a Dream
but often it is a prison where I live and breathe
maybe that birdcage is where I should be kept
since that bird, he sung that dramatic song and then lept
all that fantasy in mind and nothing concrete
i saw nothing in writing, not even the key
if it were invisible on a page, so neither you nor I could see
how long would it last? twenty five years, i doubt really
it’s just a blank page isn’t it? was that love scrubbed out?
but i sit in this cell, not knowing of truth or fiction
did my words end up sounding like cold manipulation?
if that’s the case, then i bow down in disgrace
i never, ever would want to take you to that place
no darkness in my foresight, no infinite void that I saw
instead i envision a happy ending for us all
i would write the story, the final chapter that i want
it’s love that I want, and happiness for all i thought
it warms my heart, and it pierces through everything
because i know the love you gave was more than enough
for so long i couldn’t see, that bird was blind, dumb, and mean
he just wanted to believe in that magic, and a song for us it seems...
Thinking of a Place, where the pitch black met our dreams
perhaps it is our tree -- i hope one day we are perched, singing, to be free.
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