A singer, a poet-dreaming of silent words Giving heed to dreams and nothing more Silent words poured onto blank sheets of paper His voice of dreams-silenced; His thoughts of dreams-opened And he sings what he writes, he writes what he thinks Staring out a shattered window, gazing onto fields of dreams And when he can't think, he cries out in frustration To a shadow-to no one, no one can hear his cries late at night As he crumbles and cries beneath his blank sheets of paper He feels alone-lost in his own dreams of nothingness He holds his heart out in his hands-open to be broken My dear friend, your heart cannot be mended He feels alone, and I feel nothing. His voice of courage and reason rings out as he cries On that tragic night beneath the burning light He wrote his last poem that took his life.
