A dream does always trick me out
And pops away.
Thus leaving me awake and numb
Rot in decay.
|
When I don't feel it like a knife
Shredding my heart
It welcomes me like a back strife
Of friendly art
|
Just when I thought reality
Can last and be,
A dream that colored blue my life
Gets ruined, see?
|
Why kill a man or weep or cry
When well I know
That woman's heart and woman's sigh
Searches for NO.
|
The hope will last -- if hope can be
That she is wrong --
Her Stubborness not to keep spree
And come along
|
And then again, if she is right
And found her love,
May theirs to be a blessed plight
With olive dove.
|
| Moon Steer, 1996 |