What is my dream?
Quite frankly I don’t know any more
As I watch logic and reason close that door
Dreams that were once so real
Someone had the nerve to come in and steal
Imagination and hope as vibrant as the day
Start to fade into shades of grey
The roses are dying
I can hear them crying
I have changed my definition of beauty

Why blame the storm that brings life?
The moon and stars give off their light
Beautiful or boring?
Depends, on which window its seen through
On what one seems to be true