![]() |
Whatever you do believe in someone or something |
| Faith An envy of believers in the phantoms and the ghosts A jealousy for dreamers and things we miss the most The objects on the fringes The outskirts of our grasp Where edges fray, burns, singes With every frightened gasp at the chance they just might be there be watching in the dark A silhouette stripped laid bare Might pay a fare so stark Imagined in the shadows Desired in our dreams In colours where the rain bows Our pot of gold, it teems With treasures small but plenty A pot where colours bleed For wants it may be empty Yet stocked with what we need Some sun to salve the rainfall Some daylight for the night With light our shadows stretch tall Grow confident with height But you, you're on the outskirts If that's even really you? Such doubt, it makes the soul hurt … and I don't believe it's true Leaving envy for believers The ones who risk the fall A toast to all the dreamers Good fortune to you all |