«it's been four years now since she died.
I never wanted to marry her,
hell, I never even really loved her.
so why do I dream of her each night, and why do all these dreams end the same?»
life was rotten, not worth living
filled with empty days
until I started writing the dream
life I would life to lead
every night I close my eye
knowing what awaits me
all my words are come to life
I write the script for my dreams
waiting for the sun to set
for dreams to rise
from mists of written words
waiting for the night to come
the fate to my real life
the world seems truly different
when you look down at
your troubles from the sky
by the dreams I write
I am reborn every morning
and yet I long for more
for someone who once
shared my dreams with me
taken from my side when our life
had hardly just begun
waiting for the sun to set
for her to rise
from mists of written words
waiting for our special night
to feel her breath once more
my love, please breathe!
what good are dreams
if death cannot be fooled
pale! so still
her cold hand next to mine…
locked! inside! cannot move
I cannot end this dream
that I have made
no dawn will ever come
waiting for the sun to set
day is far and hope is father still
waiting for the night to end
to break this curse
and close again her grave…