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Description
I wasn't sure. I was confused. I want to get away. My lips don't show, but still I know how short was night and day. Today is quick – yet too soon. Tomorrow's one too far off. I want to take it step by step, but it all just seemed to fly – take off. Reality for me is a thousand words – the tallest pile – the thickest stack. I'll take my time before it's through and make the most in every track. I have my fears. I have my lies, and if I must, I'll roll the dice. I'll make my way but in my dreams of broad daylight and golden beams. I guess the sky's where I wanna be so in bird's eye view, yes, I can see. I want to catch the shooting stars, and wish with every one 'til Mars.

I fear of the real. I fear of time, but if God let me, I'd dream the sublime – sans the speed, sans the hurt. My mind and eyes I will divert. I'll doze off – Sandman, fly by. He never speaks, and I don't reply. I'll start my lines, but away from the real – sans the time. It's to the surreal. A trip to the sky's my sweet escape. The sands in my eyes are always too late. I'm not clairvoyant or far-sighted per se, and I'd want to get back – get back to the day when I walked in my pace and ran my own race, and stared the stars – lost in a daze. Back then I held Time. I held the tracks. I played my own life. I piled my own stacks but for now I seem lost while Time's too soon. I will get it back, but not in that tune. I'll live up life's dreams. I'll start my regime. My thoughts and my plans – they're to the extreme. My fears and my shame – they'll not be blamed. The real is no more. I will conceal. I'll rule my own world with my strengths uncurled. I'll weave my own wings. I'll play my own strings.

I fear of today. Well, come what may. My illusions are as clear – as fresh as day. My life plays out to the same old song, but reality is not where my dreams belong. I fear of conceit so I fear of myself. I was once as described like a book in a shelf. I hide within my deepest guilt. I felt so sick, my triumphs – wilt, and now and then I remember that day when "Sorry" was all I had to say. I fear of coming short of my friends in any sport so I'm on to my dreams, on to my regimes.

I wasn't sure. I was confused. I want to get away. My lips don't show, but still I know how short was night and day. Today is quick – yet too soon. Tomorrow's one too far off. I want to take it step by step, but it all just seemed to fly – take off.

Description
I wasn't sure. I was confused. I want to get away. My lips don't show, but still I know how short was night and day. Today is quick – yet too soon. Tomorrow's one too far off. I want to take it step by step, but it all just seemed to fly – take off. Reality for me is a thousand words – the tallest pile – the thickest stack. I'll take my time before it's through and make the most in every track. I have my fears. I have my lies, and if I must, I'll roll the dice. I'll make my way but in my dreams of broad daylight and golden beams. I guess the sky's where I wanna be so in bird's eye view, yes, I can see. I want to catch the shooting stars, and wish with every one 'til Mars.

I fear of the real. I fear of time, but if God let me, I'd dream the sublime – sans the speed, sans the hurt. My mind and eyes I will divert. I'll doze off – Sandman, fly by. He never speaks, and I don't reply. I'll start my lines, but away from the real – sans the time. It's to the surreal. A trip to the sky's my sweet escape. The sands in my eyes are always too late. I'm not clairvoyant or far-sighted per se, and I'd want to get back – get back to the day when I walked in my pace and ran my own race, and stared the stars – lost in a daze. Back then I held Time. I held the tracks. I played my own life. I piled my own stacks but for now I seem lost while Time's too soon. I will get it back, but not in that tune. I'll live up life's dreams. I'll start my regime. My thoughts and my plans – they're to the extreme. My fears and my shame – they'll not be blamed. The real is no more. I will conceal. I'll rule my own world with my strengths uncurled. I'll weave my own wings. I'll play my own strings.

I fear of today. Well, come what may. My illusions are as clear – as fresh as day. My life plays out to the same old song, but reality is not where my dreams belong. I fear of conceit so I fear of myself. I was once as described like a book in a shelf. I hide within my deepest guilt. I felt so sick, my triumphs – wilt, and now and then I remember that day when "Sorry" was all I had to say. I fear of coming short of my friends in any sport so I'm on to my dreams, on to my regimes.

I wasn't sure. I was confused. I want to get away. My lips don't show, but still I know how short was night and day. Today is quick – yet too soon. Tomorrow's one too far off. I want to take it step by step, but it all just seemed to fly – take off.