I sometimes wish wishing wasn’t so easy
In this funny little world
Where one becomes seldom weary
When lost in fool’s gold.
Feeling the weight of unshed tears
I wish hope wasn’t such a familiar mad feeling
As behind the clouds, and even before the sky clears,
Everyone knows there awaits the sun shining.
But then I think of a time
When death crawls up my shoulders
To make bed that rioting head of mine
When my last burning dream feeds on itself as it smolders
Leaving not a shred of care in my walking corpse,
And my thoughts think up the impossibility to pay my wish in kind
Of when I’ll become nothing but a living corse
As they paint you absent from my mind.
For, other than for those lines that tell much
Of your smiling face,
Other than for your touch
That leaves a lingering trace,
Other than for you and that shine in your eyes,
Whenever my dreaming gaze awoke to see;
I’ve wished many wishes, as many as my lies,
Yet, none were wishes that would wish back for me.
