We used to talk, but all I got were crickets
Crazy are the conversations that never were
I would whisper two secrets and a lie,
And he would despicably chuckle,
A few confessions would put on a wry smile in his face
He didn't talk, he would act, Charlie Chaplin
Although grave silent, he cared to spare an ear
talking to him was magic -- although he never was,
He was imaginary.