i dare to wish
and tend to dream
for the alternative would be
a life of limited to worries
and what i know and see.
And some say that hope is futile
a live yet barren tree
but i believe in the thousand stars
that light the dark for me.
And hope may be the thing with feathers
but whats not said, yet's true.
Is that the thing with feathers
can fly right up to you
it can build a nest upon your window
and lay a golden egg
and i grant myself these empty dreams
so that i at least have that.