(no subject)
Dreams are like a fairy
flying high into the sky.
they're only real if you believe
and no one can tell you why,
noises fill my mind like a weird
buzzing calling for a change
Train stations and trees
leave me all but feeling strange.
Do you know how to escape
your own personal ways of hate
to shake your pollen down
from the stem of your regret
Oh baby, don't forget.
Oh, is that all you have to say for yourself?