We are but a blinding light,
blinding life and all it's might.

when she sees us, it is all blur.
stars become puffs of light and the moon is
trapped in a glowing sac.

O life is a kaleidescope of chances,
of choice and of left footed dancers.

and when we rest all we see is darkness,
when our bodies die in bed we are free,
we roam the dreamworld like a nomad,
we walk and never see our own hands...

we climb the hills of evergreen,
we ride the blades of the windmills,
we swim the rivers of wine and honey,
we bite the cherries and spit whisky on melancholies. . .

and then we wake. . .

with blood in our lips,
we smirk at life
and we all die once again,
like it all really happened.