My days have been a dream
My nights; for wondering,
Pondering thoughts
Overseas too far
Breaking this songbirds cage;

Wielding words as shooting stars,
Bursting in its space.

A thought of a thought
Hath been never wrought
If not placed in the absence of blame;

A foolish dream, is a sight to see,
When looking beyond our means.

Not satisfied by the life that’s lived
‘Tis better to die from pain,
Than to stay in a place as this,
In this world today. . .

For when tomorrow comes
And it remains the same,
Then what is one to do?
If the storm never ceases
Like yesterday,
Then what is tomorrows use?