we travel but in dreams, while safe at home
made of sights that are not seen and sounds that are not heard
there are no buildings, no streets where people walk alone and separate
no stores where folks buy endless things they do not need

Wake Up
 

senseless substitutions, touched with insanity
and swirling lightly off on a mad course like feathers dancing in the wind
they have no substance, dipping and turning till they disappear from sight
into the nothingness from which they came

Wake Up
 

Love always answers
it hears the cries of pain that rise to it from every part of this strange world you made but do not want
we've walked the way of dreams to a darkness so unreal
not afraid of love, but only what was made of love
yet either one will seem as real as the sum to which you hold it dear