In my dreams you touched me,
Somewhere deep inside
In not being born you saved me,
You made us not colide
You lit a fire inside me,
That makes all fear subside
You made me cry.
Not wail, not scream,
Just cry.
You make me see the beauty,
You make me see the grace,
That otherwise are things to see,
And not things to embrace
In gentle, elegant figures,
So gentle, little and free,
A fire of warmth it trigures,
Inspired I can't but be.
Had you been born those sister hugs
I wish for, I wouldn't wish at all,
Had you been born I'd feel the tugs
Of responcibility that comes with all things small.
But you weren't, which is why
I wished you were when I was young.
Then, and 'till the day I die,
As on that day, the wish I want the most will be done.
Yes, your physical absence fuels my desire,
The desire that desires you here.
Yet if you were here would be no fire,
That rages inside-that is my desire-that rids me of fear.
Meanwhile, while I wait in hope,
Satisfied and calm, in happiess,
Through your lookalikes I can cope,
Graceful gymnasts, beautiful ballet, such finesse.
In my dreams you touched me,
Somewhere deep inside
In not being born you saved me,
You made us not colide
You lit a fire inside me,
That makes all fear subside
So when I woke, you made me cry.
Not wail, not scream,
Just cry.
