He travels inside his head
Wishing his chair was his bed
Hours on paper, to earn his leisure
While biding his time towards pleasure
Wishing his chair was his bed
Hours on paper, to earn his leisure
While biding his time towards pleasure
He imagines a fiction ocean
Carrying his strongest emotions
To a peaceful place, where he can rest
Among his reasons to be blessed
He is tied to this dream
Silence falls at his scene
He is tied
Life is not his to live
Still clutching to a dream
Where he knows his scene
So pitiful
Life is not his to give
Still clutching to a dream
Where he knows his scene
So pitiful and frail
Life is not his to live
Still clutching to a dream
Where he knows his scene
So pitiful
Life is not his to give
Still clutching to a dream
Where he knows his scene
So pitiful and frail
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