I find
Fantasies run riot
In my unquiet mind.
Sometimes in my dreams
It seems
That dark fantasy
Is reality.
But in unending dream
My fantasy
Will be clay.
I find
Fantasies run riot
In my unquiet mind.
Sometimes in my dreams
It seems
That dark fantasy
Is reality.
But in unending dream
My fantasy
Will be clay.
When I heard
A bird
In a tree
Sing to me
In a park,
I thought that the dark
Imaginings I see,
May not come to be