More than just a dream
More than just a dream

40 days and 40 nights
I waited for a girl like you to come and save my life
All the days I waited for you
You know the ones who said I'd never find someone like you
'Cause you were out of my league
All the things I believed
You were just the right kind
Yeah, you were more than just a dream

You were out of my league
Got my heartbeat racing
If I die, don't wake me
'Cause you are more than just a dream

From time to time I pinch myself
Because I think my girl mistakes me for somebody else
And every time she takes my hand
All the wonders that remain
Become a simple fact
That you were out of my league
All the things I believed
You were just the right kind
Yeah, you were more than just a dream
You were out of my league
Got my heartbeat racing
If I die, don't wake me
'Cause you are more than just a dream

You were out of my league
All the things I believed
You were just the right kind
Yeah, you were more than just a dream
You were out of my league
Got my heartbeat racing
If I die, don't wake me
'Cause you are more than just a dream

More than just a dream
(More than, more than)
(More than, more than)
(More than, more than)
More than just a dream
(More than, more than)
(More than, more than)
(More than, more than)
More than just a dream
(More than, more than)
(More than, more than)
(More than, more than)
More than just a dream

I already did my part in coming back home to God.

So can we come back home to each other now?

The dewy-eyed moon smiles upon me.
It knows I've returned home.
The mountains lined with termination dust
hark the ending of summer.
Soon the clusters of evergreens
will be coated in snow,
just as they were last winter.
The snow falls flake by flake.
It's in no rush to hit the ground;
it will melt once it does.

The same type of peace
befalls my quiet life.
Slowly, I return to old ways.
Like footprints in the snow,
the tread of future days
looks much like those of the past.

...and then there are these flowers:
flush with fragility and coloring.

What if I could be them...
utterly mortal, yet dazzling?

What if I could bloom
with nothing to prove?

How would it be
to be like them;
perched on the tree
on a shimmering morning
so faultlessly sunny,
with the breeze...
caressing, ladylike...silky?

Can I be them?

What are the credentials
for homecoming?
or is it
a comprehensive lack of them?

the bittersweet homecoming
these telephone box blues
distance has humour
life does too