and if I reply
in just the right way
then maybe you'll like
what I have to say

and we'll talk until
the night meets the sun
and almost forget
we both were someone's

I'll go back to yours
and you'll say you're mine
then we'll both get lost
in soft skin and time

they'll call it love
and we'll both agree
'til we've had enough
of what they believe

then we'll say goodbye
and you'll walk away
as if I replied
in just the right way

here's one for life's pocket folder
we're not getting old
we're just getting older

There is a gravity to
sadness; it pulls me
downward into a
deep dark well.
I can't climb out.
It's my own private hell.
I pray for levitation.
I jump, only to fall.
I feel forgotten.

I put one foot in
front of the other,
and I will rise.
I move on.
Hope returns like
a long lost friend,
and I find my sanctuary.

they take my blood for their machines
to analyse
the very heart of me
laid bare to scrutiny

a diagnosis
of an ill I never realised
I needed a prescription for
just to survive
so nice of them
to save my life
but I feel fine

The man said nothing is real

While making a sweeping gesture with his right hand
It's a simulation he says, all of it, nothing is real

I remember as a kid singing row row your boat
Reminding me to be happy because life is a dream

Again the man states while gesturing, nothing is real
Strawberry Fields, nothing is real, nothing to get hung-up about

The Hindu call it Maya, all an illusion, nothing is real

Science gods working toward virtual reality
Where we can't tell simulation from life, nothing is real