I'm sick of myself
all this crying and sighing...

A mirror made of ripples
in the solid plains of steel...

A zipper closes with the ease of hate
too many footsteps walk to the gate...

In this land of bright lights and white stars,
why from this life do i apart...

It hurts to be alone,
for some it hurts too much...

Life is not a simple thing,
the strumming of bare feet on asphalt...

Roses open slowly to reveal the color inside,
vivid in their brightness, so gloriously divine...

Air below freezing,
Wolves howl to the moonlight...

White stretching across forever
cramped inside an orb of dew...

Ocean,
waves lapping against the shore so silently...

Nothing will ever be able to explain this feeling,
so real, so beautiful...

I know a dream is nothing but an image,
my image of what the world could be...