Sometimes I know I'm wrong,
Yet I tell myself I'm right.
Such a peaceful place,
In your mind that is,
When you believe your own lies.
I can spend a thousand lonely nights,
And a thousand no less,
Waiting for your soft spoken words to come.
'You dream' they say, 'just like the others',
But no one dreams of you like I do.
I'd write a thousand poems for you,
God knows I already have,
and will write a thousand more
If it meant you would understand
My lies, my stories, my worship.
You always ask me to explain
Every single word I say,
But you don't see it, do you?
It's all you.