Illusion

Rewind!
Out of sight, out of mind.
The long lost time,
the smell of wine,
the ugly mime, all those
are my memories, I suppose.

Too little, too late,
No more time to skate,
too much at stake,
sticks and stones,
all jelly, no bones,
that ugly fish, that tasty dish
the world is not what it is,
the world is what it seems,
light lunar beams,
the water streams,
the fickle rain,
no gain, no pain,
there is too much light
on my street, too much noise
too much beat.

Labour and Torry losing
make no sense for me,
let it be. Beehive day.
I want you to stay
with me, until I can see
a way out, that roundabout
that is two miles away from our
cabin in the woods,
roses in buds, and silence,
all that silence that you can hear even
behind the words that you say
watching the starts at night
when the Moon is high
in the sky. Do not ask me why!

All that chaos magic
would not be that tragic
if I learn how to turn back
time. Then no wine,
no mime on the Paris
side street where we meet,
six months from now.

Seeing the future is not
like in that show
that you use to watch on
school break, in the summer
of '96.
Add sweets to the mix,
a nice lemonade stand
near the band.

Of all the possible futures
this is the one I like
the most.