If I felt I were more Than a mere dust-mote
I might just be happy But I'd try not to gloat.
But inside, I'd be saying:
Is this all a dream?
Because I know from stories Things aren't what they seem
I'd be happy And pleased And I'd smile every day
But still, there's reality Which makes everything grey
I'd be just the same - or that's what I think:
Just another lost soul Standing out on the brink
Of despair Just waiting
Waiting for something That puts me back in the pink