Living in an illusion of the past,
surely never it would last.
how naive was i to believe in my dreams
when they were not to become reality
Those are the paths which are missed most,
the green grass, blue sky and the rose,
sound of the rain in the realm of summer,
beating on the tin tops, acting as the drummer,
the swishing wind would be partner,
and my feet danced to the tunes of the dancer,
swaying to the beats of the swishing tree,
those were the moments missed by me.
the white canvas and the bright paints,
pick out a pen and arch out a face,
dip the brushes in colors of life
and paint it out when its ripe.
the subtle strokes here and there,
then the picture was more clearer.
Eyes blue and face with a smile
they were true for a while.
When you take a path what do you do,
if you don’y have a choice where do you flee,
No, you stand in the arena and fight for what gets you,
It’s the last chance to get your dream.
They lie , you pretend.
they say , you hear.
Listen to your heart and ,
you got nothing to fear.