Up to the looking glass
you can see
none too clear

A pink hazed unreality
beckoning your touch

A myriad of music notes
pulling your hand

Your own voice covers you
in a blanket of warmth
humming to you
still, still, still

Inside the looking glass
you can see
none too clear

A gray clouded fantasy
begging for your taste

A shattered vanity
sinking into your teeth

Your own voice covers you
in a blanket of warmth
humming to you
shh, shh, shh