.
I'm lucid, I'm dreaming,
3 months - years seeming
I cannot imagine a life without having
all that I have, all that Lonely would cry
.
now I'm alone, as she scribbles in red
circles and marks, she scars upon sunday
myself; marks are black, unsure - less than scribbles
squiggles and lines as my heart breaks today
.
its OK, I'm not really alone, I have many illusions
my "wife" and my 'wife' and my child, yes my son
none of them mine, I claim what I lose
that I could possess something TO lose
.
everything's fallen, the roses are dead
and now the illusion is lost in my head
I cannot remember whoever I was
that once then and now, that I ever was
.
she asks what I'm doing, "I'm leaking my heart,
pen strokes in inkmarks, forever depart
and once upon paper, my pen is not heavy"
she walks away, my illusion would leave me
.
"you're oblivious, uncaring, my son matters most
but your eyes are glazed over, like your soul has no host
you're empty, uncertain, and without a heart
and lazy and broken - like fallen apart
you're silent and scribbling, why won't you reply?"
"I don't think it matters. The illusions awry
.
and without my home, and my heart and my pen
I'm once again broken, again, and again"
perhaps not an issue that my son is in pain,
hopefully this song will have no refrain
