Are you even real?
You see, I said “Love is disease,”
and you said “It doesn't exist,”
still, you make me believe.

Is all this arbitrary?
Are we just words,
written in tears by a madman
in books in library?

Who are you, girl?
I asked the sky, it whispered back to me
it spoke about alluring beauty,
that cannot be unseen.

So close and yet so far,
one must ask the God, why?
Maybe it's just a trick of mind,
maybe, but I have to find out.

Let me think and let me dream,
for the sweetest dream there have never been.
Let it linger for a while,
before you say your last goodbye.

And the jet planes,
angelical guardians of intercontinental love,
spread their wings to carry you once more
across the ocean of deepest blues.

Reaching for the stars so high,
that you will touch the heaven,
and gently fall asleep,
tell me, are you dreaming
a dream of us?