I know there are things that can't come true
But I put that out of my mind.
I refuse to accept the impossible
I would rather I stay blind
to the truth.
I know that my ramblings with so many words
Is a substitute for concrete thinking.
But every phrase I've ever written
Has stopped me from ever drinking
in the truth.
I know my thinking is sometimes crazy
And I wonder if I'm sane?
Do others live in a fairytale
Or do they only remain
with the truth?
I know I live for the sunshine
and to listen to how the birds sing.
But every time I hear their songs
I curse everything about spring
for the truth is I'm lonely.