I used to be under the illusion,
That love was more than matter,
Strewn across time and space,
A pattern in the scatter.
Strawberry fields endeavor,
To tell us to believe.
That the illusion can survive,
If we learn how to grieve.
In the sadness and the woe,
That comes when we let go,
There's a truth that fails to show,
A truth that we should know.
Love is just a lie,
That we use to get on by,
A label for sensations,
That give us reason just to try.
There are those of us who'd say,
They can't take love away,
But nothing is forever,
In the shadow of decay
Perhaps it did exist,
Somewhere between lips,
But I dare not say it's this,
In the space between your hips.