Broken Glasses and Abstract Dreams
Destroys the thought
Money seems conceided anyway
And I've counted the days
Where I've held back superficial things
And in your eyes I'm just dreaming
It all depends on what you're perceiving as real
Split Paint
Blocked Sunlight
Garden Hoses
In the twilight
Wishing they were
More than what they are
I will become a dream
And the dream will be seen
