Don't get him wrong,
it's not what you think.
He knows too well you're a fragment of
his imagination, an unreachable dream.
Not a second he'd thought ,
you'd care to glance this way.
Fred not, it's nothing,
hear not of what they say.
Words shoot like bullets,
out in this open space.
Save him some pride and dignity,
leave him some grace.
Like a barrier he'd built subconsciously,
he wouldn't step out there.
He care too much of what you'd think,
He care too much of those imaginary stares.
Don't get him wrong,
it's not what you think.
You're only ever close
to that fragment of his dream.