School Of Seven Bells
Connjur
How does someone with nothing endup with so much to show for itAll kinds of people, places, and things,your cheap doormats and decorationsAnd to think it was all just a dream,one fantastic hallucinationKeep on polishing your goldenwall of trophies and self portraitsWe'll just smile and wait till he knocks offyour designer rose colored glassesAnd you'll see what we see nothing butold dust, peeled paint, and broken glassesA simple imprint imaginedI was the hill we walkedI was the walk that swung from your legsI was your words wet cast in my thoughtsThose who say dreams are just dreamssay words end when you can't hear themListen closely as they fadeand witness the world's construction
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