As he rises with the first wisps of the morning light,
he realizes that it was just a dream
and his life hasn't changed at all.
The ideas will remain,
the lady that once was dreamt, will not be, not just yet.
His ideas, his illusions are but a sigh.
Days of grey, days of cold, the senseless embrace,
the alienation, the selfdestruction pf a light that got lost.
The struggle continues, between himself and him; it has no end.
He hungers for a simple life, maybe more,
he yearns for those days when life was more than a word.
To remember is to live again but it will never be the same
for a life that has lived what it has lived,
the return, the desire, the thought
She, him, them, us
From the mind of Cogliostro
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