We’re two different people
from two inexplicably different worlds,
who can never truly
see things through the same eyes.

While I see,
a sky painted with beautiful and wild brushstrokes,
You see,
dilapidated high rises blurred by grey clouds.

I see,
a bubbling, bustling city of culture and people
While you see,
an overcrowded, noise polluted town.

I see,
the road to an unknown journey
You see,
cracked tarmac littered with potholes.

Because, while I like to daydream,
you like to plan
While I loved like a storm
you loved like a drought,

I lived in the little things - like inside jokes and playing the guitar
while you dreamt of more, like weddings and a fancy car.

you and I are from two different worlds
that can never be combined,
So with that I leave behind
something that could never quite be defined.

The colours of the world once danced for me,
But now they stand, all grey, though if they moved I’d barely see
Music painted dreams that nourished my soul,
But now it drowns the turmoil I can't control

Does it hurt when she treats you like a shadow of the millions,
because she’s the light.
Does it hurt, when you realise you only believed you had a chance
while you were just playing into her elaborate dance.

Even if it does,
you keep living
in all the things you never said
hoping that somewhere, somehow
it wasn’t just all in your head.

I know that it stings to know
she knows exactly how to reach you,
she just never does.
But for some reason, the thought of her
still makes my tormented heart stir.

So why the sadness that you’re over
when you never even really began?
Why do I mourn the life we could of had,
when it was never more than a daydream,
now a source of pain.

It hurts me that you didn’t stay,
I feel it everyday,
But I guess what I really want to know is,
Does it hurt you like it hurts me?

what if I’m waiting
for something that will never come,
what if I was not who I am,
what if I never questioned

what if I don’t want to look on prospects drear
what if I want to be the mouse, not man-
who only lets the present toucheth thee,
to not be a human
that guesses an’ fears.
What if I accept that
even the best laid schemes
gang aft agley,
that often my whimsical dreams
are to keep my actions at bay
tucked under my hat,
kept from leading me astray
because after all Burns said,
in proving foresight might be vain.

And maybe a humans life is what I was destined to get,
but I will not be stopped yet,
though plans may falter and not be met
I will keep here set
In my human form of pain and regret.