As I hold your letter far too tight
Tell me I'm not dreaming
I feel the water in my eyes
Sense is fleeing
Help me see
Can I keep believing
You're talking about me?
It's a little too perfect
To fit into my life
Maybe I wrote it
And made it just right
Maybe I wrote all those letters
I keep in my drawer
Maybe it's all make believe
I'm in some asylum of the sort
So I hold on to a photograph
There's no way I made that up
I guess this is the aftermath
If I'm dreaming, don't wake me up
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