Lace

Some strange sound cools me down as it unravels the frown on my face,
These dreams must be lace..

We'd climb up the street-lamps and throw around orchids and play among balancing beams,
So what if they're dreams?!

...I'm in love with my dreams, because dreams are everything I made you seem.
I should never have let them go free. I fear you never saw me..

I wish I could find, among frost-bitten foliage, a color that suits only me.
It exists in my dreams.

Why would I cry when I could look at the sky and leave myself distant in dreams?
They seem to glisten and gleam.

No! I'll take this old lace, this old idling lace and I'll tear it apart at it's seams.
It only stifled my screams. I can't live in these dreams.