Living in my own reality
Your existance doesn't
matter all that much to me
I'm wasting my time
savoring the past the
present predicting a future
of my own reality my own
sinister tenderness happiness
on our faces dragging its claws
over skin over glass over metal
hovering gentleness capricious
singing in the dark with only
awareness of your insignificance
snow on the trees snow on my palm
laugh at the absurdity of it all
white everywhere give me a pen
give me a knife give me a drink
and I'll fill it up with black
monotonous tapping vibrant echos
in my reality, you do not exist
but a fly, but an ant, inhumane
I am, you are, lush green fields
grass blown by the wind is it
beckoning? oh is it beckoning?
doesn't matter, we go, you hear?
we go, lead me, lead you, we walk
we run to the centre of the earth
if the sky's dark, quicken your steps
if the heavens shine its radiance,
double your hopes, if the statue
refuses to fall, let go, let go
we run do not hide, it's a revelation
all these I see, you were here,
it's no longer funny, it's just an illusion
this is my reality, unlike your fragility
your fear I am amused you are weak
crystal droplets shower us all
this is my reality, my own
blue bayou sings to me in this
absurd bliss explosive melody
I stand alone I am the conductor
I wave my arms and you'll need a doctor
It's no longer funny, I free thee,
i do not keep your existance
in my reality
