Something so unreal it has to be a dream.
Something so logical, I know that it’s not.
Something I’m so sure of now,
And thus have no choice but to question.
I know I should run,
Run and never look back.
But as soon as I’ve left the door,
As soon as the quarter totters between heads and tails,
I will know I’ve made a mistake.
Or I will know I have not.
No matter, it will be too late.
But if the door is never touched,
I will never leave.
I will never see objectively.
Forever swept up,
Forever locked up,
Forever so sure of him and me.
“Welcome to the game of life,” says he.