Floating through the silver tears
A truth that's less than a dream.
Magic, curling, swirling round me
More real than it seemed.
I have traveled to the stars
And safely back again;
But if these mists
Hold danger, will I
Leave them for what is true?
What is truth? I ask myself
Is it dreary gray skies
Always dull, that never change
Yet never hold a lie?
Or is it what is pure and sweet,
That truth which isn't real,
That blinding light, magic within
That you can only feel?
I cannot see this mist which winds
Itself around my heart
Nor touch it as it binds itself
To my eyes and hands.
What I saw before, I see not,
I see not the gray sky.
I see the golden sun,
Cascading perfect lies.
I see the beauty in the trees
As wind races through their leaves
This magic fills me, and truth drains
Out of me like a sieve.
What I once did, I do not,
For my cruel but guileless ways
Are ended, and this incandescence
Will never go away.
And when I gaze upon the night
That once was black and cold;
I only see the stars, which shine
So brightly in my heart.
Would I go back to touch the truth?
Not I, never again.
My lies are silver, and if I see
A soul who wishes to be free,
I'll blow these dreams to him.
I'll give him magic.
