plastic people
staring into the abyss
and he sees what he feels
and knows it's nonexistant
her flowing fabrics
leave a trail of flame in the mud
and he wants what he seeks
and knows it's nonexistant
she pulls up the twisted brambles
like a shield from the earth
standing against the dark boundary
and he has what he thinks
and knows it's nonexistant
trapped in by violin strings
she laughs like windchimes from the treetops
and he watches what he needs
and knows it's nonexistant
and he gazes in the mirror
at the reflection he can see
he can feel
and knows it's nonexistant
