Doomed & Delusional

Sometimes I seem to be doomed to pursue my own delusions
Sometimes I wonder where my freedom could have gone
How could I be taken in by beautiful illusions?
- from which I’m never disillusioned- I keep hanging on, hung up on a dream, let down

When I seem to awake, I awake into a dream that’s opened up inside this dream
I even dream of escaping the dream, and that’s when I make some things out of nothing, note: not quite what they might seem
Sometimes I hear the roar of emotions at war and want to scream

Have I lost touch with reality? Could I reach out and touch the real?
But I feel that I miss it instead. The book I read
planted dangerous ideas germinating in my head
There were a bunch of ideas there, and some of them I took
and adopted, and if all else fails, I can always blame that book
for leading me astray. As rays fade and I wade
through wondrous words, I wonder
You won wondrously once again
And the circling birds above me seem to say that you love me
You love me not

There could be a memory to unlock this door, but I forgot
that pattern tattered and worn I wore for too long- now it’s gone
All I remember are these delusions that keep me hanging on

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