“I feel feverish from my mind’s melancholic gibberish.
I couldn’t tell which is which, lust wishes or hopeful dreams.
I longed for wings, to earn my stars on flight of your sun dress.
But, fate is like a calendar you can’t impress.
No matter how we dress, events will always make us look untidy.
Unprepared for what is hiding, or can it be that we don’t want to see?
The ugly that’s in you is by necessity. It also lurks in me.
So, I ignore my rationality and choose to plummet, every time…”
@1998-2010 Michael Lerman (MichaelsLyric.com)