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Everyday you still come and visit me;
You're supposed to be resting.
It's in my head, but you're not where you're supposed to be
And you're unconfessing.
Anyway, I see you from afar,
But it's not really you.
From my shoes, it's not really so bizarre,
But the bases are true, the sky is still blue and I can't find a way to leave you.

In my sleep, I dream of these open fields,
So euphoric and peaceful.
When I wake, I pretend that this place is real,
But that way is ceaseful. (don't know how to spell this, but it means "it's a trap" or something like that)
I can pray for a way to alter time,
So I could absolve you.
From where I'm at it seems like it's such a crime,
But the bases are true, yours I cannot pursue and I can't find a way to leave you.

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