the waves, they blow me out to sea,
21 years old, and youthful celebrations
burning up the nights, electric postings on TYWC,
or, at least, so I believed...
so long ago, you know,
and the glimmer's fallen from my eye.
Enthusiasm I believed could never die
has all but whithered, and then...
anyone who can promise a fix of meaning,
I'll take it, just to pretend
that I never forgot how to write my own life.
In a month, my tigress woman will be freed,
and I will wade out to shore,
miserable, as I should be, in the ocean of this truth,
daring to dream of you some more...
we're the only souls we've ever touched,
you and me, and me and you
and we see the connection of this intelligence
vivid hypercolors streaming through dreams,
washing our imaginations in watercolor streams...
I'm sick of looking, through the prism'ns of vanity,
wondering if our guard will ever collapse,
and you see me for who I be, I'll never ever forget.
Burning alone every night in the lights,
I lit your fire, while mine faded and left,
and your lights call to me
desperately
I'm dreaming, yoha, of you.
