Only ideas and thoughts and fantasies As everything starts to take shape Beauty becomes reality Is it just a model of what you imagines Or is it the real thing And they had just happened to keep a secret for this long Only the energy knows And she won't talk under chinese torture So what good is a life without a purpose? So many essays to be burned at the stake Not ears will be shed because the authors are all dead Chromosomes shattered and now non-existent All hope seems lost, all purpose seems doubtful Until beauty sweeps in and molds a mirage A figment of the imagination created by a figment By a thimbleful of imagination and a glassfull of drunkenness Nothing is realbut it is all still seen And shared and taunted And loved and hated and all the same The bubble only bursts when fear approaches quickly Carrying a knife and fork
4/10/01
