Run Away With Me
What must I do to convince you
That the skies are made of oceans
And the oceans are made of the diamonds that fall from your eyes?
Can you see it? Do you believe it?
It has been so long since we both knew the truth that even the air we breathe appears to be an illusion.
Yet here you are, standing right in front of me
And I am desperately certain
That every crease on your face is a mountain, lined with trees and formed by earthquake
Your hair a field of wheat in a summer thunderstorm,
Your smile the song of a thousand sparrows
And your heart, the sky above us all.
If I must beg you, then so let it be...
And oh, do I ever understand
That your mind waged war with your soul long before I saw your face
But caskets and groundcover come quickly,
So I do pray that you realize
The stars in the sky were hung for you;
Do not allow it to be a regret that you never took the time to name them.