I'll turn into a song
when everything feels wrong
While the roses are still red
Intrinsically, I'll sing along.
While still I'll rise, and glance ahead
Until I entirely realize:
that im alive within these half dreamed dreams.

powerful to mind that somewhere glow sunbeams-
the inevitable engulfing night, remember,
's oh so shorter than it seems.


Wistfully forget
Or
gracefully remember,
I turn into a song-
and its a very solemn playlist.