My dreams are not for sale They are not on display Like cheap celluloid Popsicles With sugar coated dazzling gods... They were shaped by love And hope and hope of love Of truth and beauty and the beauty of truth Under uncharted skies On star sprinkled dusks Days that were so long ago On Once Upon Times When I still believed, When dreams were not dreams When anything was possible... Now the possible is replaced by the probable Hopes with pure statistics And innocence has been traded with Common Sense Because everything must make sense Calculated. Priced. Accounted for. And we have to be logical after all. And yet By the green of spring I repeat My dreams are not for sale.
Just some random arrows of thought...