hold fast to dreams,
for if dreams die,
life is a broken winged bird,
that can not fly.

the night is a big black cat,
the moon is her topaz eye,
the stars are the mice she hunts at night,
in the field of the sultry sky.


the mirror is the magic of man,
for his quest throughout time,
has been to see himself,
to know himself as others do,
and the mirror is his tool,
however, he must remember,
that the mirror shows everything,
exactly in reverse.

wewe are drowning yourself in sorrow,
holding close your memories of regret,
wewe hope then tomorrow,
the memories wewe shall forget,
but they never really leave you,
no, they are always here,
but in time someone will change them,
to memories that are so dear.