from the land of black and white,
where lonely people live in shades,
from dreams of broken light.
I live in boxes, sealed and stacked
glass walls with holes for air
At night I write in a golden book
and think of the love - the hurt - the snare
Last night I dreamt of you again,
you are a broken part of me
I close my eyes and make believe
we're in a different century...
and everything's the way it used to be...
a simple fraction of an eternity...
sigh.
I'm very sad, world. Very sad.
Where are you!?
