Don't Sing That Song

You can dream every night about him and wish that you were his.
You can build your castles in air and pray like a saint for his kiss.
You can publish your own novelette of a love that would stand the test of time.
And you can write your names; together as one, side by side in a line.

You can imagine your both hands wrapped up with his in a tight knot.
Or you can rest your head on the illusions you’ve made up.
You can close your wishful eyes and think he’s beside you.
You can gather the shooting stars to make all your dreams true.

You can have him. Well, that’s if he wants to be yours.
You can stay and wait like his dog every evening by his locked doors.
You can call yourself the princess. (Though you look better as the frog.)
You can hope against hope that he’d see past through the smog.

You can dream, of course. Everyone can.
But fantasies, you’ve forgotten, are meant to end.
It’s time to wake up dear and continue going on.
So please, could you now stop singing our song?

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