Life is but a dream 

and I have to wake up 

before I make a scene 

in my obscene dream 

and I realize it’s actually mean 

a cruel being 

showing me the past with you 

but you’re gone in the present. 

I was always a fiend 

for your love and affection 

since I had none in my youth 

you crave what you don’t have 

what you can’t have 

whatever you can’t accomplish matters most 

until the impossible happens 

and love so precious becomes mundane 

full of pain 

full of nightly cries in vain 

and the mask of me being fine 

of being sane 

slips away in the light of day 

my field full of burning hay 

because the sun shining sparked a flame 

and I don’t know who to blame 

is it the sun or my exposure to it?